


Fat and Happy

by mnwood



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Bottom Dean, Chubby Cas, Chubby Dean, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Food Kink, M/M, Starvation, Stuffing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-17 12:34:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 55
Words: 61,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2309840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnwood/pseuds/mnwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I asked for chubby!Dean and chubby!Cas prompts on tumblr, so these are a collection of stand-alone ficlets that I wrote in response. The summaries are the prompts I received. (This used to be a series.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Literally Starving

**Author's Note:**

> A few things to note:  
> 1\. I wrote these with the assumption that Dean's starting weight, as in canon Dean Winchester, is between 200-210 pounds. Cas' starting weight is between 180-190.  
> 2\. 300 pounds is the highest weight I will ever write for either of these characters.  
> 3\. This is an unfinished work because I accept prompts on my blog, [deancasheadcanons](http://deancasheadcanons.tumblr.com/).

It’s not the first thing Dean notices once he and Cas return to the bunker, but it’s the most disconcerting by far. They had gotten burritos, and Cas is eating his like he hasn’t eaten in days. Dean doesn’t think anything of it at first because, well, the only time he ever saw Cas eat was when he was stuffing his face with literally hundreds of cheeseburgers. But now, as Dean sees how Cas’ clothes swallow him more than usual and how his face looks drawn not just with tiredness but with hunger, Dean begins to panic. Cas is starving. Literally starving.

Dean feels Cas’ eyes following him as he leaves the room, but he doesn’t say anything because he plans on coming right back. He rummages around in the kitchen for a bit, getting more frustrated by the second because damn it why don’t they ever stock this place with some real food. 

When Dean finally returns, Cas has finished the burrito and is staring at the wall in concentration.

"You OK, buddy?" Dean asks as he sets a plate of spaghetti on the table in front of Cas.

"What is that?"

"Pasta’s good for feeling full. You ever had it before?"

Cas shakes his head, stares at the plate. 

"You’re still hungry though, right?"

Cas nods and swallows, still staring at the plate.

Dean doesn’t even ask Cas if he’s allowed to do what he does next. Cas is still so ignorant of social cues that he probably doesn’t think anything of it when Dean sits on the edge of the table to face him, spins some noodles onto a fork and offers it to him.

Dean feels his heart jump when Cas leans forward, closes his eyes and takes the bite with a moan. 

"That’s very good, Dean."

Dean piles more spaghetti on the fork and doesn’t bother not staring as Cas eats it enthusiastically. They make it through the entire plate without speaking. 

Dean sets the fork down and watches as Cas leans back in the chair and takes a stilted breath. Cas absentmindedly places his hand on his stomach and tilts his head toward the ceiling.

"I like spaghetti." 

"Cas, was that the first time you’ve had a proper meal?"

"Possibly. It’s hard to remember."

"Are you full now?"

Cas hesitates, but then nods once.

Dean immediately goes back to the kitchen and returns to find Cas in his exact same relaxed position.

"Keep your eyes closed, buddy," Dean says as he sits back on the table. "OK, open your mouth."

Cas obliges and Dean places a Hershey kiss on his tongue.

Cas chews around the candy and asks, “Is this chocolate?”

"Yeah, you like it?"

"Yes, please tell me you have more."

Dean continues unwrapping the assortment of candy he found in the kitchen, feeling his dick get a little more interested every time Cas wraps his lips around the food and consequently Dean’s fingers. 

After they’ve made it through at least 10 pieces of candy, Cas opens his eyes and says, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

"Here, let me help you." Dean slides off the table and helps Cas remove his hoodie. Dean smiles when he sees that Cas’ stomach has found nowhere to put the food, so it pushes out against his t-shirt and looks ridiculous compared to his starving frame.

Dean reaches down and begins rubbing back and forth across Cas’ abdomen. Cas sighs and lets his eyes slip closed again.

"I’m sorry. I gave you too much food. I’m not going to lie, you’re probably going to be sick later since you haven’t eaten real food like that before."

"I don’t care." Cas sounds so relaxed that Dean is not even surprised when his hand comes up and covers Dean’s own and guides Dean’s hand all along his swollen stomach. "You’ll do this again for me, right?"

"Yeah, Cas. Anything you want."


	2. Old Jeans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dean makes it a tradition to feel his belly in his hands, feel the added weight since the last time he felt it. Feeling the shiver down his spine once he lets it drop, feeling little goosebumps when he sees how much his body jiggles.

Every so often Dean will pull out an old pair of jeans from when he was in his 20s and had a 34” waist. He struggles to even get them past his thighs, but once he does he takes a second to catch his breath and run his hand along the tight material on his inner thighs, marveling at how he can see the cellulite on his legs through the jeans. He then lies back on his bed and positions his hands under his stomach and grabs at the waistband of the pants. He tries to suck his gut in and move it out of the way and squirm around to get  _just_  the button done up, but to no avail. He finally lets his arms fly out beside him and breathes heavily as he admits defeat. 

"Cas!" he calls.

Cas appears moments later, rolling his eyes when he realizes what’s going on. “Dean, these were difficult to get on even when you were wearing a 38. You’re up to a 42 now, there is no way you can possibly fit into a 34. I don’t understand why you care to compare your growing self to your skinnier self.”

Dean turns his head to give Cas a pleading stare. “C’mon, just let me pop the button and then I’ll throw them out.”

Cas’ face turns scarlet at the mention of popping buttons, and he promptly straddles Dean’s legs and reaches for the waistband of the jeans. “Lift your stomach, fatass.”

Dean pushes his stomach up and away from Cas’ hands as far as it’ll go, and after a few frustrating minutes, lots of Cas swearing, and Dean yelping in pain from the pinching,  _finally_  the button comes together. Cas quickly zips up the jeans and gently removes Dean’s hands from his belly, guiding it down to rest over the waistband carefully.

"It’s going to pop as soon as you sit up."

"I might not even have to sit up," Dean answers suggestively. Cas turns even redder.

Dean pushes himself back so he can sit up without folding his body over the pants. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands up. 

Dean doesn’t even care that he’s not in front of a mirror to admire himself. Seeing Cas staring at him in awe is enough for him. He can feel his stomach resting over the zipper and his love handles straining against the elastic. Hell, he even feels it in his back and realizes that the pants barely come up above his ass. God, he’s gotten big.

"You can’t move, can you?" Cas asks judgmentally.

Dean shakes his head and ducks his chin in embarrassment. “They’re going to rip in my legs.”

"Take a deep breath and push out."

It’s a command, so Dean obliges immediately. It’s such a relief when he feels the button fly off and the zipper push down. His stomach falls forward and he places his hand on it as if he’s surprised to find it there.

Cas steps forward and yanks the jeans off of Dean, allowing the fabric to rip and tear in order to pry them off him. 

"I’m not letting you get any bigger than a 44," Cas says seriously as he peels Dean’s boxers down and pushes him onto the bed.


	3. Taking Up Deserved Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dean getting all self conscious around Cas when his jeans start getting too tight and his belly button shows through his shirt, but Cas doesn't understand and keeps baking him pies because he knows Dean loves pie and he loves Dean.

No, he does not care. He absolutely does not care. This is not a problem that Dean Winchester is going to worry about. Dean Winchester has stopped apocalypses - he does not concern himself with jeans that aren’t buttoning properly.

"Damn it," Dean says to himself as he finally gets the fly done up and realizes how uncomfortable he is.

He places a hand on his belly and pulls it out from his pants, lets it hang precariously over the waistband. He can breathe a little better, but it’s still not very comfortable. 

Dean’s never really worried about his weight. He was slight as a kid but when he started filling out he knew it was what his body was  _supposed_  to do. He looked much better with a full frame, and it wasn’t a problem stuffing his face with greasy foods when he was running for his life. He was never as toned as Sammy, but that didn’t matter. He was just as strong.

But then their lives had slowed down. He and Cas had finally worked out their shit and were now living together. Dean jumped into domesticity the way he jumps into everything: headfirst. There were days he and Cas wouldn’t even bother changing out of their pajamas. They would lounge around all day watching movies, cuddling on the couch, feeding each other ice cream. Dean actively avoided doing more physical activity than sex and walking from the kitchen to his and Cas’ bedroom. 

It didn’t bother him at first when he felt the extra weight. His appetite hadn’t changed, and he didn’t exactly watch what he ate. Plus, Cas learned how to bake.

And Cas baked every kind of pie imaginable basically every day. Their kitchen was practically overflowing with the stuff, and Dean found himself panicked trying to keep up eating it all so they didn’t drown in all the pies. There were days he would eat an entire pie. Or two. One day he tried to just have one single slice, and he ended up caving after Cas fell asleep and sneaked into the kitchen and scarfed down half a tin. 

So yeah, he was a little bothered a few months ago when he had to buy new jeans, but now he’s  _really_ bothered because he bought two sizes up and now  _those_  are tight, too? 

He refuses to get anywhere near a scale, but if he had to warrant a guess, he’d say he’s put on at least 20, probably more like 30 pounds. OK, fine, maybe 35 or 40. 

His stomach rounds out in front of him and looks full all the time (and to be quite honest usually it  _is_  full). Sometimes he forgets it’s there and is surprised when it bumps into things and knocks things off of tables. His flannels don’t button up anymore and they’re starting to feel tight around the shoulders. He bought bigger t-shirts a while ago too, but even those are straining to cover the lower roll of his belly, and he might as well be shirtless for the way they show the hollow of his belly button. Not to mention the way his back folds into lines just near his ribcage and how his love handles spill out and always have painful crease marks under them after a day of trying to bust out of jeans. When Dean sees himself in the mirror, he thinks,  _shit, you’re fat_.

And yet Cas seems not to care. Or more likely, he doesn’t notice. When he strips Dean, his hands roll over and grab the extra layers of skin as if they’ve always been there. When he’s sitting on the couch and pulls Dean onto his lap, the fact that Dean outweighs him by at least 40 pounds doesn’t seem to register. When Cas spoons him at night, he wraps his arm around Dean’s splayed out middle and rubs his hand gently along the soft skin. 

So yeah, today with his incredibly tight jeans reaching their limits and his t-shirt constantly riding up, Dean can’t handle walking into the kitchen to find Cas baking another pie.

"Damn it, Cas, stop baking so many pies."

Cas turns and actually looks heartbroken. “You don’t like my pies? You ate an entire one in half an hour last night.”

"Yeah, Cas, that’s the problem. It’s not - healthy for me to be eating pie every day." Dean’s hand finds its way to his belly without his permission.

"But you love pie. And I love you, so I want you to be happy."

Dean suddenly feels ashamed for more than just his ballooning waistline. “No, buddy, I know. And I  _am_ happy.” Fat and happy. “But - I’m not - does my weight not bother you?”

Cas looks down at Dean’s stomach as if he’s noticing it for the first time. “I like it. You’re taking up the space in the world you deserve.”

Dean’s mind goes blank. He’s - what? 

Cas crosses the room until he can wrap his arms around Dean’s waist and pull him up against him. “There is love and comfort and safety in this stomach. You are exactly the way you were meant to be. And I adore every inch of you.” Cas pecks Dean’s cheek, then expertly reaches his hand under Dean’s stomach and undoes his pants. His belly falls forward and actually bounces. The relief is unbelievable. 

Cas moves back over to the pies as he says, “I’ll stop making pies. We’ll get rid of them completely. But that means you have four to eat as quickly as possible.”

By the end of the day, Dean’s jeans have been abandoned completely and he’s lying on his back on their bed, both hands cradling his bloated stomach. Cas kisses every inch of Dean’s pie-filled self. 

Maybe domesticity isn’t so bad.


	4. Worry About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Maybe Dean liking Cas with a tum and making him lots of treats but then Dean also gets chubby in the process and he's all embarrassed?

So Dean’s gotten to the point where he’s willing to admit that he’s a sucker for domesticity. Yeah, yeah, laugh it up - Dean Winchester has spent his entire life as far from domesticity as possible and damn it, he thinks of it as a goddamn treasure. 

So yeah, when Cas became human and moved into the bunker and moved into Dean’s room all within six months, Dean felt pretty damn lucky. Their hunts became less frequent, and their problems became less world-ending and more what movie are we going to watch on Friday night.

In his spare time, Dean did what he had always wanted to do. He learned how to cook. And bake. At first he stuck with things he could make on the grill because he was comfortable with that and knew how much Cas liked red meat. But then Cas started bringing him more complicated recipes and asking him to try this or that, and Dean found himself spending most of his time in the kitchen. He couldn’t remember the last time they didn’t eat a dinner that he had made. Gone were the days of diner food and shitty motel brunches. 

And the best part was that Cas still had an angelic-sized appetite. He ate seconds every night, sometimes thirds, and he somehow always had room for dessert. He packed away food like it was his job, and Dean never tired of watching him stuff his face and compliment the chef every five seconds either through words or moans. 

Dean noticed it all of the sudden one night. Cas had just dropped his fork and was chewing his last bite of cake as he leaned back in his chair and began rubbing his stomach.

No, that wasn’t right. They had just been naked in the shower together this morning, and Dean hadn’t noticed - holy  _shit_  Cas’ stomach was big. Did it just happen during this meal? Didn’t he have a flat stomach just this morning? Was he just that  _full?_

But the more Dean stared, the more he realized that no, this was a gradual progression that he had just failed to notice because he was too busy watching Cas eat. Once he starts to really get a good look at the former angel sitting next to him, he notices how the button of Cas’ jeans flips out like it’s ready to come off. It’s clearly working very hard to hold Cas’ rounded waistline in. Cas’ once sharp hipbones have disappeared under a layer of soft flesh, and the hollow of his belly button is clear under the strain of his too-tight t-shirt. Dean forces himself to look up at Cas’ face and notices that his cheeks are redder, fuller. 

"Are you all right, Cas?"

"What do you mean?" Cas doesn’t even look at Dean, continues to stroke his full belly with his head thrown back.

"I mean, um, do you need new pants? Those look like they’re getting a little - tight?"

Cas laughs and Dean feels heat in his face as he watches Cas’ stomach shake, which lifts his t-shirt up to expose a strip of skin covered in red stretch marks.

"I’ve been waiting for you to notice."

"What?"

"That I’ve gained weight. I knew you hadn’t noticed, and I was just waiting for it to hit you."

"That’s not - I - how much?"

"I weighed myself thirteen days ago and I came in at 204."

Dean swallowed. Last time he had weighed himself, he was 202. And he had a slightly bigger, taller frame than Cas. “What were you when - before you were human?”

"187."

"Are you not, um, concerned or anything?"

Cas turned his head to give Dean a squinty look. “Babe, I don’t think you need to be worrying about  _me_.”

"What are you talking about?"

Cas judgmentally dropped his eyes to Dean’s own waistline. 

Dean looked down quickly, sure that Cas was kidding and Dean hadn’t changed a bit and  _what the actual fuck._

Dean is slouched forward and scooted up close to the table so maybe it’s more obvious, but damn. His stomach is folded in two separate rolls and bumping up against the edge of the table. He suddenly feels the incredible strain in his jeans, the weight of his belly pressing against his thighs.  _How did I not notice._

Dean drops a hand onto his stomach and grabs a handful of it and damn if that isn’t more skin than he’s ever had there.

"When was the last time you weighed yourself?"

Dean knows his cheeks have turned completely red. He folds his arms over himself and tries to pull his t-shirt looser. “Um, I can’t remember.”

Cas hoists himself out of his chair, making a point to show off just how beautiful his stomach has gotten. He then pulls Dean to his feet and says, “I keep a scale in the bathroom.”

As they walk together, Cas wraps his arm around Dean’s hip and pinches at his love handle. “I’ve been waiting for you to notice so I can start worshipping this,” he growls as his other hand reaches over to splay out over Dean’s belly.

"I like yours too, by the way," Dean says more confidently than before. He still fears the scale, but he’s excited to do some worshipping of his own later. Because really, this was his doing. His cooking and his caretaking and his happy little home where Cas feels comfortable enough to let himself go a little, to indulge for once. Dean feels pride swell in his chest. 

When they get to the bathroom, Cas agrees to get on first. He strips to his boxers and gives Dean the full picture. His ass fills out the material and his thighs touch in the middle. Even his boxers are struggling to hold in the round protruding belly. 

"209. To be fair, I’ve had seconds of dessert every night this week."

Dean decides not to tell Cas that he does that almost  _every_  week.

When Dean strips, he feels himself getting embarrassed again at the body he hadn’t noticed until today. His stomach looks different than Cas’, the lower half of it jutting out in two mounds on either side of his belly button, his pecs looking more like breasts, and his sides acting more like a muffin top than love handles. He hasn’t seemed to gain weight elsewhere, though.

He closes his eyes and finally hears Cas say, “221.”

Before Dean can even calculate how much weight that means he’s put on, Cas has turned him around and pushed him against the wall, rubbing their stomachs together in a way that definitely should not turn Dean on as much as it does.

"We’ll buy new jeans tomorrow," Cas says before biting Dean’s neck.


	5. Didn't Even Notice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dean doesn't notice his jeans getting tighter around his tummy until one day *poof* and his button pops off on his second piece of pie, and he's really kinda embarrassed by how much weight he's put on in domesticity, but also kind of proud of himself like 'hey, I’m a normal person, I do normal things like gain weight and shit,' and so he enables it for a little (or a lot) longer.

_What? That can’t be right_ , Dean thinks as he sets his plate down and bends over to pick the small button up off the floor. He stares at it in confusion for a second before turning his attention to the culprit in his lap.

His fly has completely ripped open and his stomach is still pushing into it, forcing the fabric to fold over on itself. And he’s not even leaning forward. He’s completely reclined in his chair. Damn, how did he even get these pants on today?

Dean moves his hand down his full stomach almost reverently, pressing into the tight skin and making his way under it until he finds where it meets the rest of his body (which proves to be more difficult than it should be). 

OK so he’s put on weight. He’s added an actual belly to the already existing pudge. Not a big deal. No reason to freak out.

Except he can feel his face heating up and his heart beginning to race. He’s freaking out. 

He clearly needs to buy new jeans immediately. Hell, he didn’t even realize they were getting tighter. But now that he thinks about it, he’s been unusually uncomfortable lately. He’s felt pinching and straining in his pants when he eats, and he finds himself spreading his legs to let his stomach drop and have some room to breathe. He subconsciously eats in reclined positions these days, opposite of how he used to hunch over his food. 

And dear _god_ , he’s been eating a lot lately. It’s been awesome actually having the  _time_  to sit down and eat a good meal that it’s become one of Dean’s favorite things to do. Usually it’s a stack of pancakes or eggs (or both) with a side of sausage or bacon (or both) for breakfast, some kind of meat-filled giant sandwich for lunch, and something really starchy or fried for dinner like pasta or chicken with mashed potatoes and fried okra. And there’s dessert. Always dessert. Usually two pieces of pie or a pint of ice cream, and sometimes Dean just buys a few bags of candy and eats them mindlessly during the day. He does the same with chips and peanuts and granola bars and whatever the fuck other kind of snack food he wants. And since he gave up booze, he drinks one or three cans of soda a day, too. 

Shit, come to think of it, he should be  _way_  bigger than he is. He falls into bed most nights with an almost angrily full stomach, and how in the world did he not notice that he’d porked out?

Sam hadn’t said anything. Cas hadn’t either.  _It can’t be that noticeable_ , Dean thinks as he gets up and walks over to the mirror to assess the situation. He removes his t-shirt, which, now that he’s aware of it, clings to his skin pretty snugly. 

 _Shit._  It’s noticeable. More than noticeable. Dean’s stomach is so large that it actually has a horizontal bend right through the middle of it, and the rest spills out round and flabby well over his waistline.  _Seriously, how the hell did these pants fit this morning._

He turns to his side and sees the line of the underside of his belly as it curves down with the weight of his protruding gut. He places his hand on the side of it before moving both hands underneath and lifting up. He watches his entire stomach bunch up in rolls and when he drops it, it shakes its way back into place.

Dean turns back to face the mirror head on and looks at his entire self. He’s just plain  _rounder_. His arms are layered in extra skin and they bump up against flabby sides. His hips literally look like a flat tire that starts at his back and ends where his stomach drops forward with the most weight. His legs look pretty much the same, which probably explains the pants situation. Except no, this stomach has added at least 10 inches to his waistline he’s sure. Dean wiggles his way out of the jeans and struggles to find the tag.

46” waist. Last time he checked he had a 38” waist. Somebody (Cas) replaced his fucking jeans. Somebody (Sam) realized that Dean didn’t notice his own weight gain and decided to just let it happen. 

Dean wants to be embarrassed. He really does. His initial thoughts are to immediately begin dieting and exercising and doing whatever he can to get back into his old jeans. 

But.

The more he looks at himself and the more he pokes and prods at his soft, large body, the more he thinks,  _awesome_.

He rummages through his closet for a pair of sweatpants then walks into the kitchen shirtless. Sam and Cas are seated at the counter drinking coffee, and they try to avert their eyes as quickly as possible.

Dean doesn’t say anything as he pulls out the pie from earlier and digs in without even cutting a slice. He eats it like he hasn’t eaten in days, and finishes it off in a matter of minutes. 

Finally Cas and Sam are staring, slack-jawed. 

"Yeah so I got fat," Dean announces as he slaps a hand to his gut and begins rubbing in circles, feeling the fullness of all the pie he just stuffed into himself. "No, I didn’t notice until today. No, I don’t give a shit. Cas, you’re going to have to buy me new jeans - might as well bump up to a 50 because I don’t plan on eating any less any time soon. Any questions?"

Cas clears his throat and says to Sam, “Your brother is the only human being on earth who could gain 60 pounds and not notice.”

Sam laughs and pats Dean’s stomach as he leaves the kitchen. 


	6. All Cas' Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: How about some Destiel featuring insecure!Dean? Maybe they're cuddling and Cas wants to be big spoon and when he tries to wrap around Dean's middle his hands are swatted away? Or maybe Cas notices how Dean is being mean to himself a lot.

Dean loves Cas, he really does. He loves showing Cas just how much he loves him - a kiss here, a smack on his ass there, a home-cooked meal a day, a warm bed every night, a vase of flowers each month. The problem is, one of the ways in which  _Cas_  shows  _Dean_  how much he loves  _him_  makes Dean…uncomfortable. Self-conscious? 

Well, technically the first thing is that Cas makes sure every single day that his Dean is quite literally well fed. He’s constantly asking if he’s hungry or if he wants more food when he’s already got a full plate, if he had enough to eat once the meal’s over, if he would like for Cas to get him a piece of pie (sometimes Cas just shows up while Dean is watching TV and places a snack in his lap before curling up on the other side of the couch). 

At first Dean was caught off guard with the attention Cas was giving to his well-being, but he got used to it eventually. He got so used to it, in fact, that he found himself agreeing with Cas a lot of the time. “Yeah, I could go for some food. Order a pizza.” “Sure, go ahead and give me the rest of yours.” “Of course I want pie, are you crazy?” “Hey babe, can you pop some popcorn for me?”

Dean’s always been an enthusiastic eater, so it didn’t take all that much pushing from Cas for Dean to start eating more than he should. It’s not even  _that_  much more, but after eight months of it Dean finally decided to see a scale and found that he had gained 27 pounds. He briefly panicked that he was one pound away from 230, which on paper was well past obese for his height no matter how broad of a frame he has. And it hadn’t even been a year. If he kept on gaining weight at this pace, he wouldn’t even make it to middle age.

But when he looked down at himself and saw the happy round belly Cas had created (yes he was going to blame Cas completely for this nonsense), he thought  _I’m definitely not “obese.”_  He was just…chubby. He could grab entire sections of his stomach and he had to suck in (a lot) to button his pants (that were already two sizes bigger than he wore in his early hunting days) and he had stripes running up the underside of his belly (which he could only see in a mirror), but the extra weight wasn’t really even that noticeable when he was wearing three layers of clothing. His jeans were a little tighter in the thighs and ass too, his back dimpled out a little over the top, his love handles squished out the sides in little rolls. And the only part of his body that was packed tight was his belly, and that was only when he was full. (At least it wasn’t a beer gut, thank you very much.)

So no, it’s not exactly Cas’ mother hen tactics that have Dean bothered. It’s the fact that Cas likes giving attention to Dean’s completely unappealing extra weight. And Dean just cannot deal with it. 

Whenever Cas tries to hug Dean’s waist from behind, Dean quickly spins around and pecks Cas’ cheek. This is only effective half the time, seeing as the other half of the time Dean’s belly knocks into Cas when he turns around.

Whenever they have sex, Dean insists they turn the lights off, and he tries his best to keep Cas’ hands away from his pudgier areas. He only lets Cas take him from behind with Dean on all fours, because then his stomach can drop toward the bed, and Cas has a hard time focusing on anything else when Dean’s ass is right in front of him.

He made up some lame excuse about needing “alone time” for why they don’t shower together anymore. 

Dean refuses to let Cas be the big spoon (which is a real bummer and a half for Dean because who the fuck doesn’t love being the little spoon) because he doesn’t want Cas’ arm anywhere near his midsection. 

Sometimes Dean catches Cas eyeing his belly like he’s hungry for it, and Dean has to leave the room to avoid an awkward conversation about it.

Cas tries to rest his head in Dean’s lap when they’re on the couch together, but Dean pushes him off and complains that Cas’ head is too heavy for his thighs (ha yeah right). Then Cas curls under Dean’s arm and absentmindedly runs his hand up and down his stomach, and occasionally it feels so good that Dean forgets to swat Cas’ hand away until it’s too late and he’s fallen asleep. 

Then one day, Dean is in their room changing and he’s just got a towel wrapped around his waist and suddenly there are strong arms holding him from behind, hands reaching under his gut to feel its weight, fingers pressing hard into his soft skin, a chin resting on his shoulder. 

"Jesus, Cas, what the hell!" Dean shouts as he tries to break free of Cas’ hold, but the former angel isn’t even fazed (which is disconcerting that Cas is still stronger than Dean despite being outweighed at this point by at least 40 if not 50 pounds). Dean’s hands drop over Cas’ and he tries to pry them off his fat but to no avail.

"Why won’t you let me touch this?" Cas growls right up against Dean’s ear as he squeezes his belly to emphasize his point.

"I - it’s just - you know, it’s so  _gross_.”

"Dean Winchester if I hear that word come out of your mouth about yourself one more time I am sending you back to hell."

Cas allows Dean to turn around in his arms, but Cas still holds him tight so that his belly is pushed up against Cas’ flat stomach. Dean feels Cas’ long fingers kneading into his back fat and thinks  _fuck, that’s nice_. "I just don’t like it."

"I don’t know if you know this, Dean, but you haven’t been doing much to prevent it."

"Are you kidding me right now? You’re the one always shoving food in my face. You know I can’t say no to you."

Concern washes over Cas’ face. “That’s what this is about? You not being able to say no to me? That’s what you’re blaming for not liking how you look?”

"No, of course not, no, I —" Dean sighs, which is a terrible idea because it pushes his gut out further against Cas. "Do you like me like this?"

A small smirk appears at the corner of Cas’ lips. “Like what?”

 _Are you really going to make me say it, you asshole_. "Heavy, overweight, plump, fat, whatever the fuck you want to call  _this_ ,” Dean reaches down and takes the middle part of his stomach in his hands, pushing his belly button and a pile of skin out between his fingers. 

Cas’ eyes widen and he appears to have gone momentarily brain dead. “Gorgeous.”

"What?"

"Gorgeous - that’s what I’m going to call it. That’s what I’ve been trying to get at this whole time. You were made to be filled," (Dean stifles a laugh), "and I’m going to be the one to do it," Cas finishes with an index finger to the tip of Dean’s nose.

"So you’ve been doing this to me on purpose?"

"Of course. I thought that was obvious. Domesticity looks perfect on you, and I am going to do everything in my power to convince you of that. However, if you really want to lose weight—"

Dean cuts him off with a sloppy kiss. He pulls back after a minute, breathless. “I don’t want to lose weight. But I also don’t want to gain much more.”

Cas’ face drops in disappointment. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “God, I had no idea you were such a chubby chaser. Fine, I’ll let you keep doing this until I hit 240, but then it stops.”

"250."

"No."

"We’ll take it slow. Only a couple of pounds a month."

"No…"

"I’ll only give you one slice of pie a day," (shit, had Dean really been eating  _more than_  one slice a day lately?), “and I’ll feed it to you every night.”

"Um, I —"

"I’ll only let you get  _really_  full once a month or so, and I’ll ensure that you get to lounge around all day stuffing your face, and when you can’t even move anymore I’ll tie your arms to the bed, unbutton your poor jeans, and feed you just a  _little_  more in between belly rubs.”

"Cas, I – you —"

"And then I’ll worship your fullness, praise you for how much you were able to fit in that belly, ensure that every extra bulging inch of you feels loved."

Dean closes his eyes and tries to catch his breath. He barely notices Cas’ palm pushing into his hungry stomach. Had he even eaten anything today? Surely he hadn’t. 

"I won’t let you touch it, either. Not ‘til I’m done with it. You’ll be aching to feel how heavy you are by the time I let you. And then, when I finally tuck you into bed to let you sleep off the high, I’m going to be the big spoon, and I’m going to rub your giant belly all night."

"Two-two-fifty?"

"250."

Dean went to bed that night filled with two cheeseburgers, a family-sized bag of doritos, an entire pie, and half a case of oreos just for good measure. As he fell asleep, Cas’ gentle hand and whispered praises lulled him into a sense of security he had never felt in his life. 


	7. Adjusting to Humanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dean teaches Cas how to appreciate food, but not the exercise a human needs to stay fit. While remedying this, Dean and Cas get sweaty in the bunker. Afterward, Cas always keeps a bit of tummy, as a reminder of how they got together, and Dean is fond of that tummy.

"Cas! C’mere, I have something I want you to try!"

Several seconds later, Cas huffs his way into the kitchen looking more irritated with Dean than usual.

Dean seems not to notice as he shoves his latest delicious concoction into Cas’ mouth.

Cas is momentarily distracted by the food, humming in satisfaction and chewing slowly. 

"It’s good, right?"

"Yes, Dean, but—" 

Dean shoves another piece at Cas to cut him off. After the third, Cas gives up trying to talk and plops down on a stool, lets Dean feed him the entire plate of sugary brownie goodness he had just baked. 

Finally, when it’s all gone, Cas says, “Dean, you’ve made me fat.”

Dean’s eyes jump down to Cas’ midsection and quickly back up to his chubby face. “Well, yeah?” He might as well have just said “duh.” “Does that bother you?”

"I’m not…accustomed to it. I used to be an angel, and as if being human isn’t already hard enough, now I get out of breath walking up a single flight of stairs, and it takes me two attempts to stand up from the couch. And I need new clothes. Again."

Dean surveys Cas’ body, this time with his brow creased in seriousness. To be fair, Cas is extremely full right now, so it’s reasonable that the hem of his t-shirt has ridden up to his belly button, and the lower roll of his stomach is resting on his thighs even though he’s slightly leaned back. And yeah, Cas needs new clothes as evidenced by how uncomfortably tight everything looks on his plush frame. He’s got a muffin top that goes all the way around and buries the belt loops on his jeans. Dean vaguely remembers watching Cas struggle to put those on this morning, pushing layers of fat this way and that just to get the waistband underneath his heavy midsection. When he had finally gotten the fly done up, his belly had dropped over it and threatened to pop the button even without any food stuffed in it.

Dean feels his face getting hot with want, so he turns his attention back to Cas’ eyes and asks, “How much do you weigh?”

"A lot."

"C’mon, babe, it can’t be that bad." Dean reaches over and takes some of Cas’ fat in his hands, kneads his fingers into the tight skin.

"How much do you think Jimmy Novak weighed? I never bothered to check my weight until last week when I accidentally ripped your favorite button down."

"That was  _your_  favorite button down that you stole from me. I don’t know, man, he probably weighed around 180, 190? Hard to tell since you wore those oversized clothes all the time.”

"That means that I have gained at least 47 pounds since I became human. Dean, it’s been less than a year."

237\. Wow. Cas outweighs Dean (who’s noticed his own pudge getting pudgier lately) by 20 pounds. Dean tries not to dwell on how much that turns him on. 

"Yeah, well, that’s actually not so bad, Cas. With what I’ve been stuffing in there lately," Dean says as he pokes at Cas’ belly, "combined with the fact that your body is adjusting to being an almost middle-aged human, it’s not a surprise that you gained a lot of weight fast. And not that my opinion matters, but," Dean pulls himself closer and lets his hands roam under Cas’ shirt and all over the heavy mass, "you look incredibly hot like this."

"You’re just saying that because this is your fault."

"Don’t you think I wouldn’t’ve done this to you if I  _didn’t_  like you this way?”

Cas considers for a moment, and then he wraps his arms around Dean’s neck, spreads his legs to pull Dean even closer, pushes his stomach forward so it grinds into Dean’s. “I don’t care how I look, Dean. My problem is that I waddle when I walk, I have to stop and catch my breath if I go from our room to the dungeon, and last night I was so tired and hungry after sex that I sneaked into the kitchen after you fell asleep and ate two slices of the cake you made.”

"Is this supposed to make you less hot or something because—"

"Dean. This isn’t about my weight. I just want to feel healthy."

"OK, OK, yeah, I’m sorry. I’ve been terrible at helping you adjust to humanity, but to be fair if you wanted somebody to teach you how to be healthy you should’ve planted a kiss on Sam last year instead of me."

Cas rolls his eyes and Dean can practically hear his internal monologue saying, “but I love  _you_ , idiot.” But instead of saying that, he just leans in and kisses Dean a little more inappropriately than necessary (which is always how Cas kisses Dean).

"Awesome, so I suck at exercising and I suck at eating healthy, but if we work together and beg Sam for help I think we can do this. I’ve packed quite a few pounds on you, so it’ll probably take a lot of time and effort. You sure you want to do this, Cas?"

"I’m an angel of the Lord, I think I can handle a diet and exercise regimen."

"Yeah, sure, what was that you were saying about stopping to catch your breath when walking more than five feet?"

Cas punches dean in the arm, and then they leave the kitchen to go find Sam. When they explain the situation to him, he rolls his eyes so hard Dean thinks they might get stuck like that.

"Dean, I  _told_  you Cas would notice and get mad at you—”

"I’m not mad."

"—And you didn’t listen to me because all you could fucking think about was how adorable a fat Cas would be—"

"He  _is_  adorable, so your argument—”

"—And you didn’t bother to think about the consequences—"

"Will you please just shut up and help us, Sammy?"

Sam rolls his eyes again and gets up, ushering them to follow. He explains everything they have to do and not do, sets up a schedule and calculates how much weight Cas should be losing each week. He promises to kill them both if they slack off and Cas ends up just gaining more weight, and they promise to stay in line. 

It takes months of hard work, and Cas definitely did not cry a few times during the first couple of weeks, and he definitely did not get caught with his hand literally in the cookie jar in the middle of the night three different times, and he  _definitely_  didn’t suddenly ask to bottom for the first time in his and Dean’s relationship because he was too exhausted and sore to top. Yeah, none of those things happened. But after eight or so months, Cas tries on his old angel get-up and finds that it fits like a glove. 

And of course Dean, who’s down to 180 for the first time since his 20s and actually hates it, is a big baby about it. “What am I supposed to latch onto?” he asks as he wraps his arms around Cas’ hips.

"Well, in your case I’m going to simply grab your ass more often," Cas replies matter-of-factly as he takes handfuls of Dean’s ass in his hands.

"So you’re going to miss my pudge, too?" Dean asks suggestively.

Cas smirks. “We’re both at 180 now. How do you feel about us both being at 200?”

Dean’s eyes widen. “I’m going to go bake a pie,” he says quickly before untangling himself from Cas and running off, yelling, “Sammy! Help me and Cas gain 20 pounds!”


	8. Xoxo, Cas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: What about someone who hasn't seen Dean in years commenting on how chubby he is now and being kind of rude about it so Cas gets all defensive?

“Dean! Dean Winchester? Is that you?"

Dean and Cas stop in their tracks as an older man makes his way over to them and eyes Dean up and down with an amused expression on his face. 

"Oh my god, if it isn’t Nathan fucking Jackson. How you been, man?" Dean answers enthusiastically as he pulls the man in for a one-armed hug (because he’s holding a half-eaten cheeseburger in his other hand). 

"You know, same ol’. Hey, I heard about John a while back, I’m sorry I never—"

"Nah, dude, it’s cool. I’m just happy to see you still alive after all this time."

"Yeah, yeah, I, uh, I stopped hunting when…well, when I thought the world was ending. Readjusted my priorities and stuff. What about you? You don’t look like you’re doing much hunting these days," he says as he once again does a once over of Dean’s frame.

Dean’s completely unfazed. Nathan was his dad’s friend when Dean was barely even at his full height yet. Of course it’s shocking to see a scrawny little kid as a grown man with a full frame and then some. He was probably around 170 the last time he saw Nathan, and now he’s in his 220s, and he carries most of the extra weight in his stomach. And he hasn’t bothered buying new clothes in a while, so it’s really rather obvious. Also, he doesn’t give a fuck.

"Well, you know, I’m in my late 30s now, so I just decided to slow down. Sammy and I still hunt, but a lot less frequently than we used to." He takes a bite of his burger and doesn’t care that Nathan is scrutinizing him.

"So did you settle down somewhere, got a wife back home waiting on you?" he asks, and then he seems to notice Cas for the first time.

"Yeah, um, well actually no. I mean, we’ve got a place in Kansas for the three of us. I’m sorry, I’m being rude, this is Cas. Cas, Nathan." They shake hands as Dean continues, "Nathan was one of my dad’s old hunting buddies."

"And Cas is…?" Nathan fishes.

"Oh right, yeah, Cas is my—"

"Best friend," Cas interjects somewhat possessively.

"I was actually going to say boyfriend, but OK."

Nathan’s jaw drops a little and his eyes widen. 

"Is there a problem, Nathan?" Cas asks coolly. 

"What? No, uh, no problem. Looks like you’ve been taking good care of Dean, Cas," he says as his eyes wander once again to Dean’s midsection.

Dean takes another huge bite of his burger as Cas answers, “Dean takes good care of  _himself_ , actually.”

"Yeah, it looks like it."

Dean was so preoccupied with eating that he missed what was said. “Hmm?” he asks innocently. 

“Boy, you’re a piece of work."

"What could you  _possibly_  mean by that?" Cas asks with that angelic tone that usually makes people shut the hell up.

"I’m sorry, I just, uh, I knew Dean a few cheeseburgers ago."

Dean laughs and keeps eating.

"Are you seriously criticizing the weight of a man you haven’t seen since his youth? I may not have the best people skills, but even I’m socially adept enough to know that’s out of line."

"Honey, you really don’t have to—"

"That’s another thing I’m confused about—last time I checked, you fucked women, Dean."

"Funny thing about sexual preference: it’s none of your business," Cas deadpans.

Nathan continues talking at Dean, who continues to focus on his burger. “What’s going on, Dean? I can only imagine what your daddy would say if he were—”

Nathan is unconscious before he even hits the ground. Cas didn’t even use his two-finger angel power thing, he just flat out socked him in the jaw. 

"You know I don’t give a fuck what my dad would think, right?" Dean asks calmly.

"I don’t care, he still deserved that."

"And I know we haven’t talked about it, but you don’t care that I’ve put on weight recently, do you?"

"I encourage it, Dean. I’m the one who bought you that cheeseburger, remember? You deserve good things, and those good things should be evidenced in your pant size."

"All right, that’s weird, but OK. I don’t care what people think, Cas. About how I look or about us or anything. I’m happy. That’s all I care about." He leans over and kisses Cas sweetly. "I mean, people might wonder why a good-looking guy like you is with a tubby guy like me, but I’m cool with that."

Cas rolls his eyes. “Yeah right, like  _I’m_  the better-looking one in this relationship.” 

When Nathan wakes up a few minutes later, he finds a note on his chest with very neat handwriting that reads, “Kindly go fuck yourself. Xoxo, Cas.”


	9. Trying to Eat Less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Chubby!Dean has started to outgrow his clothes so Cas makes him go shopping for new ones. Cue fitting room montage. (And prolly some sexy time in the fitting rooms after if you know what I mean.)

"All right, I’ll make you a deal: if you can button these jeans and wear them  _all day_  today without any splitting or popping, I’ll go buy you new clothes while you sit around on your fat ass stuffing your face. If you  _can’t_  do that, you’re coming with me to try on new clothes. Either way, you need new fucking clothes. For the second time since I stupidly agreed to move in with you.”

"I don’t sit around stuffing my face all day," Dean mumbles as Cas backs away from him and takes a seat to watch Dean try to button the jeans Cas had just pulled up for him.

"You don’t? I vaguely remember leaving a man to his own devices two days ago and coming home to find him hugging his bloated self and begging for a belly rub. And there was an empty large pizza box next to him."

"That was one time.”

"Yeah,  _this_  week.”

Cas smiles and Dean starts to laugh. “I really should start trying to eat less,” Dean says with a couple pats to his stomach. When Cas moved in a year ago, Dean weighed 204. At his weigh-in this morning, he was at 248. He’s perfectly fine with it and so is Cas, but buying new clothes is getting to be annoying. He’s waited until the last second this time and has been spilling out all over the place and busting at the seams in almost every piece of clothing he currently owns. He really is going to start eating less. Really. As soon as pie stops tasting so good.

"Yeah, sure, you said that at 220 and 235 and yesterday during your third slice of pie. Quit stalling and get those pants on."

Dean scoffs and reaches under his belly for the ends of his jeans. He pushes and shoves and wiggles around and curses until finally, “All right, I’ll throw some sweats on and we can go. Asshole,” he says to his gut.

On their way, Dean convinces Cas that they should stop and eat first. “Then I’ll know how the clothes fit when I’m full.” Cas doesn’t point out that Dean is full all the time, and instead pulls into a Chinese buffet. When Dean says he’s done after just two plates, Cas looks at him skeptically until Dean says, “What? I just said I was gonna try to eat less.” But as soon as they get to the mall Dean rubs his growling belly and stares at the Cinnabon longingly. Cas buys him two cinnamon rolls and tsks sarcastically when he hands them to him.

They end up at Old Navy, and Dean decides to try on two sizes up from what he currently has. He grabs some new flannels and t-shirts too, in one of the biggest sizes they carry. The dressing room situation is a problem, because the dressing rooms are extremely small and of course Cas wants to come in there with him.

"How many do you have?" an employee asks kindly.

"Uh, six?"

"OK, come with me."

"Excuse me, ma’am, could we go in the handicap fitting room if it’s available?" Cas interjects. 

The woman gives them a suspicious glare but leads them to the biggest fitting room, which is still rather small. 

Dean removes his shirt and tries on the pants, and they fit perfectly. He has room to breathe even with all the food he just crammed into his stomach, and his midsection falls comfortably over the material.

He turns to Cas, who is sitting on a bench no more than two feet from Dean’s protruding belly. He runs a hand up and down his gut and asks, “How do I look?”

"They’re OK. You look a little too comfortable for my liking, but I’m sure that won’t last but a few months." Cas can’t help it and reaches out to place his hand on the underside of Dean’s belly and lifts up, just because he likes feeling the heaviness that is Dean Winchester. "Try on a shirt."

Dean throws on a dark green t-shirt and pulls it down until it stretches all the way over him. He struggles to get the flannel on, but only because buttoning shirts takes more effort than it’s worth. The buttons strain a little, but that’s to be expected.

"God, you’ve gotten huge," Cas whispers reverently. 

Dean chuckles, and his whole body shakes. Cas swallows. “You’re making it really difficult for me to want to stop gaining weight.”

Cas knows, as Dean just pointed out, that losing weight is not even an option. He also knows, secretly, what weight he wants Dean to max out at, and they’re actually getting very close. Dean has no idea that it’s all Cas’ fault that he’s put on weight, and he will have no idea that it’s Cas’ fault when he  _stops_ putting on weight. Cas will make Dean perfectly fat and happy without Dean even realizing it. “Try on another pair,” Cas says lazily.

Dean smirks at his pile of clothes and digs around for the bottom pair of jeans. When he changes into them, he hears the sharp intake of breath from Cas and ignores it while he pulls a shirt on too.

Dean had sneaked in a too-small pair of skinny jeans, and a too-small t-shirt that barely covers his belly button. He feels the strain all over his body, and he hopes the fly that’s already bowing out doesn’t decide to snap while they’re in here. He takes shallow breaths and slowly turns around. “I’m never going to be able to get these off me, you wanna do it for me?”

Cas basically attacks Dean, yanking the t-shirt up over his head before falling to his knees and digging his hands into Dean’s meaty hips. He pulls Dean’s entire body forward and begins licking and sucking at all the taut skin he can reach. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Cas breathes before tracing a long stretch mark with his tongue.

Dean is trying to keep his breathing shallow so as not to destroy the jeans, but it’s proving difficult with every bit of attention given to his middle. He knows he’s making whimpering noises and that the poor people in the other dressing rooms can probably hear him, but it’s so hard to care when Cas gets like this. Dean drops his pudgy fingers into Cas’ hair and twists and pulls for leverage.

Cas carefully pushes Dean into the mirror and grabs the fly of the jeans. “Suck in as much as possible.”

Dean obeys and puts his hands under his belly to lift.

"Breathe out on three. One, two, three."

Dean pushes out as far as he’ll go and feels his weight bounce with the release of the fly. He rests his hand on his side, but Cas immediately moves it back into his hair and continues lavishing attention onto Dean’s body, moving lower this time as he slides the jeans off. 


	10. Miscommunication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Chubby!Dean notices Cas staring at his new pudge a lot and starts exercising because he thinks Cas hates it but Cas tells him he prefers him with a chubby tummy and there is fluff.

Dean notices it one night when he’s just about to fall asleep and suddenly a body curls around his like a question mark and wraps an arm tightly around his midsection. Dean tries to shift, but Cas sighs contentedly and squeezes him even tighter.

"Cas?" Dean whispers.

Cas is clearly asleep, but after a couple minutes, he grabs Dean and rolls onto his back, pulling Dean’s entire weight down on top of him.

 _What the hell_ , Dean thinks as he tries to squirm out of Cas’ grasp to no avail. He knows he must be crushing him, but Cas just smiles in his sleep like this is completely ordinary. 

Dean doesn’t say anything about it in the morning and neither does Cas, but all of a sudden Dean becomes aware that Cas is…staring more than usual. Cas has always stared at Dean’s face a lot, but now he’s staring - other places. Dean constantly catches Cas squinting in concentration at his stomach in particular. 

Dean fiddles with his clothing whenever this happens, but that just seems to make Cas inhale sharply and keep right on staring. 

Dean’s too chicken to talk to Cas about it. He knows why Cas is staring. Dean’s put on weight recently, and it’s added a layer or two of pudge to his already pudgy belly. His t-shirts are taut against his skin, and his stomach is large and round and sticks out even when he’s lying on his back. He doesn’t mind it and often finds that his hand has made its way to rest on the mound of flesh without his permission. And he tries really hard to ignore the way his dick responds to the increased difficulty of buttoning his jeans every day. So maybe he likes the extra weight a little too much, but he’s starting to like it less now that he sees Cas clearly hates it.

Cas seems to be totally indifferent when Dean stops going back for seconds and starts skipping dessert. He also doesn’t notice that Dean wakes up earlier than him these days to go for a (very slow) jog. After a few months, Dean looks in distaste at his flat body but is satisfied that Cas will like it better.

Except now Cas stares at him with twice as much confusion as before. He doesn’t grab Dean to cuddle in the middle of the night anymore. He doesn’t hug Dean from behind while he’s trying to cook or lazily stroke Dean’s full stomach when they watch TV on the couch after dinner. He never even touches Dean’s midsection when they have sex, whereas he used to lavish kisses straight down Dean’s chest all the way to his dick.  _Shit_ , Dean thinks.

"You don’t like that I’ve lost weight, do you?"

"Not particularly, no," Cas answers honestly.

"Why didn’t you say anything?"

"I don’t want to have control over your body, Dean."

"But you  _do_. I thought you hated my extra weight, so I lost it. I would much rather be big, trust me."

“What?”

“I liked being, um - padded.”

Cas comes closer and places the palm of his hand on Dean’s empty stomach. He looks into Dean’s eyes very seriously. “You want to fill this up? Make it big again?”

Dean feels his face flush and nods.

“How big?”

“I don't know, I lost 20 pounds. I wouldn’t mind gaining…30 or so.”

Cas looks like he’s mentally calculating. “I can do that,” he finally says before pushing Dean into a chair and going to the fridge.

Cas feeds Dean pretty much anything he can find in their kitchen until Dean places a hand on his bloated stomach and begs Cas to let him stop. Cas responds by pushing Dean back in the chair, unbuttoning his fly, and shoving his hands under his shirt to rub gentle, soothing circles into his aching belly. 

"You can fit more in there, can’t you?"

Dean closes his eyes.

"You fit just a little more in there, Dean, and I’ll rub and kiss the soreness out all night long. And in the morning when you feel better you can ride me while on my lap, your back to my front. I’ll get you off just grabbing your stomach."

Dean eats way more than should be humanly possible after that. Cas keeps his word.

Dean is 40 pounds heavier within the next year. He sleeps with his full weight on top of Cas every night, his belly warm and soft and full.


	11. A Game of Popping Buttons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Chubby!Dean and chubby!Cas have a competition over who can burst the button on their jeans first.

"Is it time?"

"I think it’s time, yes."

"How are yours feeling?"

"Scale of -10 on uncomfortability?"

"The scale never changes, Cas."

"7. Yourself?"

"Eh, 6. You didn’t cheat and start eating already, did you?"

"We literally just woke up, Dean."

"Hey,  _I’m_  not the one who hides peanut butter pretzels in our closet.”

"I do not - OK, I’ll stop."

"Every man for himself?"

"Until dinner."

"Agreed."

Dean’s not sure when it started, but he and Cas have been steadily gaining weight together for the past couple years of their relationship. Somehow they’ve managed to stay within five pounds of each other and have been sharing clothes, which makes it easier when they have to buy new ones every five or six months. They both have 44” waists now, and Dean is just a little heavier than Cas even though Cas shows his weight more and tends to destroy pants easier. Their little competition started the first time they outgrew their 38s and realized that they both hated shopping for new clothes. It was agreed that whoever could pop a button first wouldn’t have to do the shopping (and would get a blow job and a belly rub later). Cas won last time, and Dean is determined to beat him this time.

When Dean sees Cas heading for the kitchen, he decides to head for the Impala instead. He drives to his favorite diner and calls Sam to meet him there on the way. 

Sam doesn’t look surprised when Dean orders two stacks of pancakes, a side of bacon, a side of sausage, hashbrowns, two biscuits, and a strawberry milkshake. (“You’re going to kill yourself one day, Dean,” his usual server comments as she walks away.)

"Button-popping day?" Sam asks casually.

"Yeah. You know I can’t eat like this on a normal day."

"You  _could_ , but luckily for your arteries you don’t. What are you and Cas up to now?”

"I’m near 240, he’s near 235."

"Wow, you’re both heavier than me now."

"Which means I have more fat than you have muscle, so congrats to me."

"You’re still being healthy about it, right?"

Dean rolls his eyes. Sam always asks that. Dean knows he’s pushing his body to limits he probably shouldn’t, but he and Cas  _are_  actually pretty healthy people.

Except on button-popping days.

Near the end of breakfast, Dean has to spread his legs so his stomach can drop between them. He can feel the fly of his pants starting to bow, and the pinching all around his waist is too much to handle while in public. But he’s nowhere near full yet. He doesn’t get to do this often enough, so when he does it’s like his body grows a second and third stomach and allows him to cram an unlimited amount of food in there until he’s too tired to lift a fork to his mouth. 

"You OK?" Sam asks with a laugh as Dean scoots his way slowly out of the now too-small booth. 

"Peachy."

When Dean gets home, he finds Cas lying on his side on the couch, watching TV contentedly as he eats a bag of cheetos. 

"Hello Dean, how was Sam?" he asks without looking at Dean.

"Good. He says hi." Dean makes his way to the couch and leans down to kiss Cas’ forehead before he begins cleaning up the mess Cas made. There’s an empty box of donuts, an empty box of girl scout cookies, an empty jar of Nutella next to an empty family-sized bag of pretzels. Cas and his fucking pretzels. 

"Good breakfast?" Dean asks.

"Mmm."

They have an unspoken rule that they don’t really talk about what the other is eating on button-popping days. They don’t comment on it or try to get in each other’s way, and they never touch each other except on the face.

Dean stays in the kitchen for a while on his laptop, mindlessly eating the batch of cookies he made last night. When he runs out of them, he grabs a bag of chips and dip and goes to join Cas.

Cas is now on his second bag of cheetos and his belly is sneaking out from under his t-shirt. Dean tries not to stare at the beautiful swell of Cas’ full belly and the angry tiger stripes lining his skin, and instead hits Cas’ feet and says, “move.” 

Cas rolls his eyes and pulls his legs up until they’re bunched up against his gut, showing off his cellulite. Dean plops down, and they watch TV together for a while, not speaking as they both stuff their faces. 

They eat lunch in front of the TV too, Cas making himself three bowls of macaroni and cheese while Dean of course goes for cheeseburgers and fries. Dean tries not to laugh at Cas, who is sitting fucking cross-legged on the couch looking like Buddha and holding his bowl delicately near his face. When he sets the last bowl down, he lets out a long breath and clutches at his belly.

"You OK, babe?" Dean asks as he takes a bite of his third cheeseburger.

Cas very carefully uncrosses his legs, lifting his stomach up in order to do so. When he drops it, there is a loud  _tink_  and Dean knows he’s been defeated.

Cas is so relieved, he drops his head back against the couch and digs his hands into the front of his broken jeans to pull out the remainder of his gut. He looks ridiculous leaned back with his bloated belly in his lap, his hands pushing up and down slowly along the fullness. Dean doesn’t even care he’s lost at this point, he’s just so focused on how  _huge_  his boyfriend is.

"I win. Again."

"You know, it’s really unfair when my stomach has such a bigger capacity for food." Dean continues to eat, knowing that the loser also has to pop his button instead of being allowed to simply undo his fly once he’s lost.

"I find it difficult to care when I’m this comfortable."

"You cheated, didn’t you?"

"No, but when you got home I had already cleaned up the first box of donuts and pint of ice cream I had eaten."

_Jesus Christ,_  maybe he  _was_  a bigger vacuum than Dean.

"I love these days," Cas comments, still rubbing his stomach.

"Dude, you really need to stop looking so blissed out right now. I’m about to abandon this game and give you a blow job right here on this couch."

"Too tired. Keep eating. Wake me up for dinner."

Dean’s button pops 20 minutes later when he’s in the middle of an apple pie, and he immediately throws his jeans off and crawls into Cas’ lap.

"Too much – too much belly in the way – can’t…reach…you," Cas teases as he extends his arms forward. Dean grabs the flabby meat of Cas’ upper arm and begins to bite his way up.

 


	12. Poor Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: hs!au in which someone says something to chubby!Cas and Dean (star wrestler) defends his boyfriend.

"Excuse me?"

"Dean, please, you don’t—"

"I was just telling your  _boyfriend_  here that I really like his new shirt. It really shows off his shape.”

"Dean’s not my—"

"Oh  _please_ , the only reason you guys haven’t been found out is because nobody would believe Dean Winchester would date such a fat  _loser_.” 

"You know, Gordon, you wouldn’t have to pick on people if you weren’t so insecure," Dean says calmly.

"What did you just say to me?"

"I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Cas doesn’t give a shit that he’s overweight. You’re making fun of him because he’s happy and you’re not. You can’t  _stand_  that a fat person likes themselves more than you do.”

Gordon looks at Cas then, who is slouched against the lockers between them looking rather bored and ready to go home. “You going to let Dean say you’re fat, Cas?”

Cas gives him a confused look before looking down at his large stomach sticking out in front of him. “Um, yeah? That’s like asking if I’m OK with Dean calling my eyes blue. I don’t understand your point.”

Dean doubles over laughing as Gordon turns to leave.

"Poor guy," Cas whispers to Dean, but Gordon hears and spins back around and lunges at Cas.

Dean is there in a second, grabbing Gordon’s arm before it gets anywhere near Cas and slamming it up against a locker. Gordon tries to throw his other arm at Dean, but Dean catches that too and pins Gordon’s back to the lockers. 

"I could do this all day, Gordon."

"Why the  _fuck_  do you defend that waste of space?”

"Because he’s  _really_  good at fucking me,” Dean whispers into Gordon’s ear.

Gordon squirms and suddenly seems terrified. 

"Stay away from my boyfriend," Dean finishes before releasing Gordon and walking away. Cas falls into step next to him.

"Did you just out us?" Cas asks as they walk outside.

"Yep, think I did." Dean turns and pulls Cas into his arms. 

"You think people will start making fun of you, too?"

"Dude, I hope so. I hate this whole popularity bullshit. I’d much rather be like you."

"You know, you could just bump up from the 170 weight class to the 225 and then maybe people will stop falling all over themselves for you."

"But then I’d be as cute as you, and we can’t have that."

Cas rolls his eyes. “You’re such an idiot.”

"Yeah, but I’m  _your_  idiot.”


	13. Freshman 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: College!au where Dean gains his freshman 15.

"Cas."

"Hmm?"

"Cas, get off of me." 

"Mm-mm."

“Cas.”

"Shhh, ‘m sleeping."

"Castiel."

"Oh my god, Dean,  _what?”_

"Get the fuck off me, Cas!"

Cas finally sits up on their makeshift bed of two crappy twin-sized beds pushed together and turns the lamp on. “Dean, it is 4 in the morning, why in the world are you asking me to get off you?”

“‘Cause it’s uncomfortable,” Dean mumbles.

"Liar."

"OK, fine, it’s because I’m fat and I don’t like you noticing. There."

Cas smiles affectionately at his adorable roommate-boyfriend. “You’ve gained 15 pounds. That’s not fat, it’s healthy.”

"So you  _have_  noticed?”

"Of course I’ve noticed, Dean. I touch you every single day. I see you naked most days of the week. I know your horrendous dietary habits."

Dean knows he’s blushing. Adjusting to a living environment where his dad doesn’t control every little thing he does has made Dean into a vacuum. Some kids go to college and rebel with drugs and alcohol; Dean rebels with pie for breakfast and five snacks a day. He was 175 in August, and now it’s barely October and he’s 190. And all 15 extra pounds sit right on his used-to-be-flat stomach where Cas just had his head.

"Don’t tell me you’re feeling self-conscious?"

"It’s a lot of weight to put on in just a couple months. You’re not worried I’ll…get huge?"

"Dean, I’ve done nothing but touch your stomach since you started putting on weight. I don’t plan on stopping any time soon. But if it’s something you don’t like, then there are measures that can be taken to redeem the situation.”

Dean considers for a moment before saying, “Nah, I like food too much. And I don’t actually care that much what I look like as long as you think I’m adorable.”

Cas smiles again and places his hand on Dean’s cheek. “No matter your weight, I’ll think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Dean hates when Cas says stuff like that, yet he lives for it. He leans forward to kiss Cas, and as he does so he feels a hand drop to his waist and sneak its way under his t-shirt. 

"Hey, get off," Dean scolds as he tries to swat Cas’ hand away.

Cas responds by pushing Dean back against the bed and climbing on top of him. He rips his shirt off and bends down to grab Dean’s belly and kiss the soft skin between his hands. 

Dean’s whole body shakes with laughter. “That tickles, asshole.”

Cas blows a raspberry into Dean’s stomach and Dean bucks up and squirms under Cas’ weight. 

"Get off me, Cas.”

Cas rolls over next to Dean and places his head on his middle. “You’re more comfortable now.”

"Imagine how comfortable I’ll be in a couple months when I’ve put on 15 more pounds."

Cas knows Dean is kidding, but he squeezes Dean’s waist tight and thinks,  _I can’t wait._


	14. Accentuated Features

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dean and Cas experimenting with rope play, not bondage necessarily but maybe shibari and decorative harnesses and stuff and Cas just loves the way the rope slightly digs in and accentuates the pudge of Dean's tummy and he loves to kiss all along the soft flesh in the pattern he created.

"It’s just something I’d like to try sometime. You know, if you’re up for it."

"Are you kidding me? Let’s do it  _right now_.”

Cas grins. “Tomorrow. I have to…do some more research and buy some rope.”

The next 24 hours are probably the most impatient Cas and Dean have ever been in their entire relationship. Dean had no idea that Cas was interested in Shibari, and Cas had no idea that Dean liked being tied up (considering how often he’s been tied up and tortured by monsters and humans alike, Cas is surprised Dean could possibly think of it as  _pleasurable_ ). 

When the time finally arrives, Cas strips Dean’s clothes off of him so fast that Dean barely registers what’s happening. Cas pushes Dean onto their bed and gets distracted (as usual) by Dean’s plush belly. He places butterfly kisses all along the underside of it and pushes the fat all around with both of his hands.

“Cas, I get that you have a fetish, but  _please_  get the damn rope already.”

Cas bites a section of Dean’s stomach in response and then reaches for the rope. He begins wrapping it around Dean’s body as if he’s an expert at this, and within minutes Dean feels like he’s floating.

"Dean."

"Mmm?"

"Stay with me, please."

Dean opens his eyes and lifts his head off the bed to ensure Cas that he’s OK. “I’m here, Cas. I trust you.”

Cas nods and flips Dean over on his stomach so he can tie his hands behind his back. Dean is completely hard now as he feels the rope digging into his naked skin and holding him tight around his hips and back and shoulders and wrists. He can still move, but he’s definitely in the most vulnerable position Cas has ever had him in. 

"I want you to stand," Cas says gently.

Dean slowly rolls over and scoots his way to his feet. He looks down at himself to see Cas’ work as Cas stands a few feet in front of him, fully clothed and looking on in wonder.

"Look at you," Cas breathes.

The rope follows the crease of Dean’s hips so that his stomach pushes out and folds over the material. It lifts over the skin on his sides, forcing his love handles to squeeze their way out under the strain. He can feel the fat in his back pushing out between the lines and his shoulders fighting the tight restraint. The rope right under his chest makes his pecs look even more womanly than usual. The pressure feels just as good as it does when Cas has stuffed his body full of food.[  
](http://deancasheadcanons.tumblr.com/tagged/chubby!dean#)

And before Dean realizes what’s happening, Cas is there, on his knees, pressing his face into Dean’s belly and gripping his ass, which is spilling out over the top of the rope. He licks and sucks his way along the red skin near the restraints and stops every so often to tug here and there, tightening and loosening certain areas and making Dean gasp and shudder. Then suddenly Cas is carrying Dean over to their bed, and he’s pushing him into it face first with a strong hand to the back of Dean’s neck. 

"Stay still," Cas growls.

Dean’s body relaxes and Cas removes his hand from his neck. Cas begins rubbing circles into Dean’s ass, and then his thumbs are kneading the skin and working his cheeks apart, and Dean tries to keep his breathing steady but that’s all shot to hell when a hand smacks him.

"Too much?"

"No."

"Twenty enough?"

"No."

Cas smacks his ass again, harder. “Thirty then?”

"Yes."

Thirty spanks later, Dean is wasted and raw but Cas is just starting. He dives his tongue into Dean’s hole and wraps a hand around his dick. He moves in the same rhythm with both, and Dean comes with a scream.

Cas allows Dean to come down from his high for a minute before untying the rope and pulling Dean up to a sitting position.

"How are you feeling?" Cas asks as he slides behind Dean and pulls his large body between his legs. 

“‘M good.”

Cas puts cool lotion on his hands and wraps his arms around Dean’s middle and lifts up his belly to tend to to the raw skin underneath. He soothes Dean’s entire body, rubbing lotion into every soft spot until Dean is humming in satisfaction and gripping Cas’ knees with his chubby fingers.

When Cas’ hands come up to cup Dean’s pecs, Dean tilts his head back against Cas’ shoulder and feels teeth latch onto his neck. 

"I’m gonna get hard again," Dean says seriously.

"Good," Cas answers with a tight squeeze to Dean’s chest and a hickey to his shoulder. 

 


	15. Photoshoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Chubby (self-conscious) Dean as a model and Fit!Cas as photographer.

Dean’s been modeling since he was a child, and he’s always enjoyed it— even when he turned 25 and suddenly couldn’t figure out how to keep his weight down so he said fuck it and put on 40 pounds and seamlessly moved into plus-sized modeling. He’s usually mostly clothed and placed in somewhat conservative positions during photoshoots, which he prefers because he really doesn’t need the whole world looking at his huge arms and sagging belly. (At least they edit out the stretch marks and cellulite.) So yeah, he likes his job even though most days he hates his body.

Except last week his agent called and asked if he’d be willing to take on a new client. Dean’s always willing to accept jobs, but the problem with this one is that it’s not a  _new_  client, it’s an old one. Dean absolutely hates working with people who knew him when he had a 30” waist and abs. But when his agent says that it’s  _Castiel_ , Dean agrees immediately. Cas was a young photographer who spent an entire day snapping pictures of Dean in a speedo 10 years ago. He was also very overweight and probably wouldn’t think twice about Dean’s own weight gain. 

So Dean agrees to do it and surprisingly gets a phone call from Cas a few hours later. 

"Dean Winchester?"

"Yes, is this Castiel?"

"Yes, hello, um, I don’t know if you remember—"

"I remember. It’s been what, 10 years?"

Cas chuckles. “Oh good, I was hoping you hadn’t forgotten. Listen, I would really like to do a similar shoot this week.”

Dean freezes, and Cas asks if he’s still there. “Um, yeah, sorry, I, uh, I’m not sure. Um, you know I’m a—a plus-sized model now, right?”

Cas doesn’t miss a beat. “Well yes, that’s why I called. I saw you in an ad and immediately recognized you and realized you’d be perfect for this project.”

"Oh. OK then."

They discuss details, and two days later Dean is knocking on the door of Cas’ studio apartment. 

Dean blushes when the man opens the door because he thinks he’s gotten the wrong house. But then before he can say sorry and turn to leave, the man says, “Dean! Great to see you, come on in.”

Then Dean is blushing even harder as he follows Cas into the apartment. The photographer had to have lost at least 100 pounds in the past 10 years, and he’s lean and muscled in a way that Dean never was. And to top it all off, he’s wearing extremely tight black pants that accentuate his muscular thighs and a light blue v-neck sweater that hugs his sharp hips and wide chest. If Dean wasn’t so embarrassed, he’d be turned on right now.

"Thanks for coming to my house on such short notice. I do most of my work here now. Did you do what I asked?" Cas says as he hands Dean a glass of water.

"Yes, I, uh, I did."

"Are you feeling all right?"

Dean nods and takes a drink of water. Cas chats with him for a few minutes about his past work and how much he enjoyed working with him a decade ago. Then, finally, he asks Dean if he’d like to begin.

Dean nods again, and then Cas gives him a speedo and robe and points him toward the bathroom.

Dean is practically shaking in the bathroom as he takes off his clothes. It’s a relief to remove his jeans after what Cas had asked him to do. He’s not entirely sure what Cas is going for, but he just decided to go along with it when Cas asked him to “eat until you’re completely full before you come over.” It’s rare that Dean lets himself indulge, so it was actually kind of nice to stuff his face with whatever the hell he wanted for a day. Except now he’s putting on a fucking speedo and his stomach strains against the material and falls out taut and round in front of him. He runs his hand back and forth across the soft skin and thinks  _you’ve gained weight again, fatass_. 

Dean wraps the robe around himself and when he walks out, Cas is adjusting the lighting in his makeshift workspace that takes up half of the apartment. 

"Um, this bathing suit is kinda…small," Dean comments.

Cas turns and looks down as if he can see what Dean’s wearing under the robe. “Yes, it’s supposed to be. Do you feel uncomfortable?”

Dean takes a deep breath and feels his belly push out even further. “I think I’ll be all right.”

Dean feels extremely insecure once the shoot starts, but somehow, hours later, Cas is snapping pictures of him as he’s perched on a stool with his belly hanging between his legs. And he’s laughing and eating ice cream straight out of the tub.

"All right, I think I’ve got enough for today. You may change clothes," Cas says after taking one final shot. 

Dean’s immediate reaction is, strangely, disappointment. “Oh, OK, um, I guess I’ll be going then.” Dean moves to get to his robe, but then Cas is there in front him, placing a gentle hand on his chest to stop him. 

"Dean, is everything all right?"

Dean shakes his head and laughs at himself. “I’m just being dumb. I let myself actually have a good time, and now I don’t—” Dean stops himself and looks up at Cas.

The corners of Cas’ lips turn up sweetly. “You want to keep shooting?”

"No, really, it’s fine, it’s late and—"

"Would you like to eat dinner with me?"

"What?"

"Dinner. I was planning on cooking tonight, and you are welcome to stay."

Dean looks at Cas’ eyes for a second, and then he wets his lips and involuntarily looks at Cas’ mouth.

Cas’ eyebrows raise. “Of course, we can always do other things, too.”

"What?" Dean asks again.

Cas places his index finger under Dean’s chin and leans in for a gentle kiss. He pulls back after just a few seconds, and Dean leans forward with his lips parted and eyes closed, clearly hoping for more.

"Let me make you dinner first."

Dean grabs the back of Cas’ neck and pulls himself closer as he says, “I’ve been eating all day, I’m not hungry.”

Cas immediately gets hard once Dean’s bare stomach is pushing into his sweater. He involuntarily drops a hand to Dean’s waist and yanks him even closer. “Then you can watch  _me_  eat,” Cas growls.

"You didn’t call me here today for this, did you?" Dean whispers.

"No…but it crossed my mind."

"OK, um—" Dean can’t help it and begins kissing Cas. "—Lemme get—changed—and then—we can eat—"

Suddenly Cas’ hands are reaching behind Dean’s thighs and he lifts Dean off the floor and pulls his legs around his waist while still kissing him. “Fuck dinner,” Cas breathes.

It’s not until Dean wakes up the next morning curled up naked under Cas’ arm that he realizes that Cas is  _way out of his league_. Sure, Dean’s a model, but he’s pudgy and soft all over and outweighs Cas by at least 40 pounds, even if Cas is lined with muscle. In-shape guys like Cas don’t sleep with schlubs like Dean. Dean tries not to dwell on the fact that he probably wouldn’t have slept with Cas a decade ago.  _Maybe Cas just isn’t as fucking shallow as you, asshole_.

Cas stirs then, and Dean places a few light kisses on his chest. Cas’ hand drops to Dean’s hair and Dean pushes up into the touch like a cat.

"Morning," Cas says groggily.

"Hey, Cas?"

"Hmm?"

"Why’d you lose so much weight?"

Cas laughs and Dean feels his chest shake beneath him. “Health complications. Trust me, I’d much rather be fat.”

"What?" Dean lifts his head to look into Cas’ eyes.

Cas drops his hand around Dean’s back and pulls him closer. “You know, some people  _like_  fat, Dean.” Cas grabs a handful of Dean’s hip to further his point.

Dean grins and blushes. “You can’t be fat yourself so you sleep with fat guys? Is that it?” he asks teasingly.

Cas cups Dean’s face with his other hand and pulls him down for a kiss. “Hopefully I’ll be sleeping with just one from now on. And I’ll help him learn to like his body.”

Dean considers for a moment before saying, “And I’ll help you learn to like yours.”

 


	16. Crop Tops and Beer Bellies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: What about chubby fem!Dean trying to hide and conceal her newfound belly and fem!Cas showing her all the reasons it's wonderful and cute. And then after that she loves the new tummy too and starts to rock some crop tops.

God  _damn it I gotta lay off the beer_ , Dean thinks as she pulls on a t-shirt that she swears was  _not_  fitted a couple weeks ago. She looks down and does not like what she finds in front of her. Her stomach is round and poked out past her breasts, and she can see the hollow of her belly button, which is set deep within a soft layer of extra skin. She grabs at the fat with both of her hands and pulls it in all directions just to make sure it’s there. Then, just for fun, she pushes her belly out as far as it’ll go and tries not to think about the fact that she looks seven months pregnant.  _OK yeah, no more beer_. She considers for a moment before deciding to remove the t-shirt and grab one of her brother’s giant flannels that she stole a while back. It swallows her entire body and she thinks,  _much better_.

She and Cas have been dating for a long enough time for this not to be an issue, but Dean’s still going to try to hide it for as long as possible. It’s lucky that they don’t live together (yet), so maybe Dean can get away with not sleeping over for a while. 

When Cas answers the door for their date, the first thing she says is, “Nice shirt. Sam’s?”

Dean blushes and looks down at the shirt. “Uh, yeah. We weren’t planning on going anywhere nice, were we?”

"Do we ever?" Cas asks before grabbing the back of Dean’s neck and pulling her in for a kiss.

"Good point." 

Dean tries to eat less than she normally would on a date, and she orders water instead of alcohol. Of course Cas notices, but instead of saying anything she just furrows her brow and tilts her head every so often. 

When they get back to Cas’ apartment, Dean leans in for a good night kiss and ends up dragged into the front entrance with the door shut behind her. 

"Cas, I got work in the morning. I can’t stay," she manages to say despite Cas sucking on her neck and grabbing her breasts. 

"All right, then I’ll eat you out and you can leave," Cas growls into Dean’s skin.

Dean tries to find purchase on the wall behind her and ends up just pushing her hands against it along with the rest of her body. She’s completely powerless when her 5’5”, 115-pound girlfriend gets like this.

"My room," Cas says before wrapping her legs and arms around Dean’s body and expecting Dean to carry her.

Dean falls on top of Cas once they’re on the bed and begins removing Cas’ clothing. She’s about to unsnap her lacy blue bra when Cas’ hands try to sneak their way to the buttons on Sam’s shirt. 

Dean grabs Cas’ hands and pins them back to the bed and begins licking her way up her chest. But Cas fights back and moves her way back to the buttons, and Dean tries again and again to distract her until Cas gives up and says, “What the fuck, Dean?”

"What?"

"Um, you still have clothes on. Let me take them  _off_ , please.”

"No," Dean mumbles before trying to kiss Cas again.

Cas puts her hand over Dean’s mouth. “You don’t want me to see you naked because you’ve put on weight.”

Dean pulls her head back in offense. “You noticed?”

"Yes, Dean, I’m dating you. I’m going to notice things."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Babe, are we really stopping sex to talk about your beer belly?"

Dean sits up and pulls her knees to her chest. “I’m just self-conscious about it, OK? Please don’t be mean about it.”

"Mean? I’m not trying to be mean about it. I’m just upset that you won’t let me love it."

"Excuse me?"

"What? You used to just be beautiful, but now you’re beautiful and adorable, and I’m excited about it," Cas states like it’s facts in a textbook.

"You actually  _like_  me like this?”

"Oh my god, Dean, yes. Now can we please just have sex already?"

Dean leans forward and pulls Cas into her lap. Cas kisses her furiously as she undoes a few of the buttons and then pulls the flannel over Dean’s head. She keeps at least one hand on Dean’s stomach for the rest of the night. 

Dean wakes up in the morning with Cas’ arm around her waist, her other arm under her neck, and her leg hooked around Dean’s hip. She tries to extricate herself to get up and go to work, but Cas’ grip just tightens. Her face gets hot with embarrassment as she feels Cas’ arm dig into her soft pudge. 

"Cas. Babe, wake up. I have to go to work."

"Mmm, but you’re so soft and warm," Cas mumbles as she nuzzles her face into Dean’s neck.

"Stop it, that tickles. Seriously, asshole, I’m going to be late."

"So…hard to care…when you’re so soft."

Dean fights and squirms until she’s practically out of breath, and still Cas has her in an iron grip.  _Jesus Christ, Dean, you outweigh her by 40 pounds and you’re still her bitch._  

Finally, after more arguing and some lazy making out, Dean is allowed to go to work. While she’s there, she gets a text from Cas.

It’s a picture of Cas in a fitting room wearing a pair of high-waisted shorts and a colorful bandeau. There’s no message attached. They always send each other pictures of clothes before they buy them, expecting the other to approve or disapprove. Dean responds with, “You better wear that on our date tomorrow.”

The next picture is Cas holding up a bright pink crop top. “I’m buying this for you. If I wear the shorts, you have to wear this,” the message reads.

Dean stares at her phone for a second and then stares at her stomach. She smiles and looks back at the picture.

_God damn it that shirt is going to look cute on me._


	17. Three or Four Pies Ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dean getting picked on by other hunters because of his noticeable weight gain but he's still just as strong and beats them up.

"Oh  _god_ , not this again.”

"Let ‘em have their fun, Sammy," Dean responds with a smirk. "So what were you guys saying?" he asks the hunters.

"We were just wondering when the great Dean Winchester got  _fat_.”

"Uhhh, three or four pies ago, I think. I can’t recall," Dean answers as he rubs his stomach.

The men stand there dumbfounded, unsure of what to do with Dean’s confidence. 

"So are you guys gonna let us help that town that’s rapidly dying, or…?" Dean asks nonchalantly. 

"We can take care of it."

"Look, guys, can we just have a couple days to check it out?" Sam cuts in impatiently. 

"I don’t know, Sammy. I’m just not sure we can trust you. Well, maybe we’d trust you, but what good is your brother gonna do? Can he even fight anymore?”

Dean rolls his eyes and looks at his watch. “Guys, seriously, you’ve been here, what? A week? People are still dying. Are you really going to let people die because you’re concerned about my weight?”

"We told you, we’ve got it covered. Go find your own town to save, fatass.”

"OK, you know what? Only  _I’m_  allowed to call Sam Sammy, and only Sam is allowed to call me fatass, so how ‘bout you guys get out of our way before I make you?” Dean says as he walks up to the group of guys until he’s just inches from them.

The one he’s right in front of says, “God, I can’t believe I used to be intimidated by you. What the hell happened, man?”

"Why don’t you punch me in the gut? See for yourself. Go ahead." Dean smirks and places his hands on his back so he can push his stomach out as far as it’ll go. The hunter in front of him has to step back.

"You’re disgusting," he spits before throwing a punch.

Dean easily ducks the blow and punches the hunter right in the rib cage. As he starts to fold over, Dean knees him in the stomach and pushes him to the ground. Two other guys try to come at Dean from both sides, but he head butts one while he simultaneously elbows the other in the face. After the fifth guy has dropped in less than 30 seconds, the last two guys remaining take a cautious step back. Dean’s not even out of breath.

"Smart move, guys. Sammy and I are gonna save this town now, thanks." Dean winks before he and Sammy step over the pile of guys.

"You OK, man?" Sam asks seriously once they’re out of earshot. 

"Yeah, I’m good." Dean pauses before continuing. "I just hate being made fun of."

"I’m sorry, Dean. Hey, after we save this town we can go back to that diner you liked a few miles back and get some more pie."

Dean laughs. “Dude, yeah. Except now that’s all I’m going to be thinking about.”


	18. Obsessed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Could you write one where it's a mutual decision for Dean to gain the weight ... for Cas? Like, he he realizes Cas likes it, so he goes from very fit to really, really packing on the weight because Cas wants to see him fat and finds that sexy? And Cas feeds him all the time?

"Cas, why are you obsessed with my stomach?" Dean finally blurts out after weeks of holding it in, hoping the problem would just go away and he and Cas could just continue on with business as usual. This is the first time he’s brought up anything to do with their physical relationship since they had sex for the first time two months ago.

"I’m not sure actually," Cas answers honestly.

Well. Dean wasn’t expecting that. “Um, OK, well, can we try to figure it out? I’m not exactly…comfortable with how you stare at it all the time like it’s a fricking alien.”

"I’m sorry, Dean. I, um, I think it’s because I don’t like it. Maybe? Again, I’m not sure."

"What? You don’t  _like_  it?”

"I can’t exactly—it’s…it’s clearly a nice stomach. It’s strong and flat and you’re probably in the best shape of your life, but—"

"But you don’t like it?"

"No."

"Well what do you want me to do about it?"

"I think…I think I might like it if you gained weight."

"What?"

“I don’t know. I think I’d like your body better if it was…bigger?”

Oh. Cas has a fetish and has no idea. “All right, Cas, here’s the deal. I’ll gain weight. But you gotta let me do it myself. I don’t want any pressure from you, ‘kay?”

"Of course, Dean. Am I allowed to share my opinions on how your body looks?"

"Yeah, if you decide you don’t like how I look, tell me. But if I say I’m done, you can’t ask me to gain more."

"I promise."

"Kiss on it?" 

They both lean in and give each other a very professional peck on the lips.

—

The next few weeks for Dean are pretty, well,  _awesome_. He’s always wanted to stuff his face and damn the consequences, and now he actually has an excuse to do exactly that.

On the first day, Cas looks like he might pass out when he walks into the kitchen to find Dean shoveling a stack of ten pancakes in his mouth. He wisely doesn’t say anything, though, as he pours his coffee. When Dean is done, he sits back in his chair and drops his hands to his full stomach. 

"Hey Cas, would you mind making me some eggs?"

Cas’ face goes pale as he says, “Sure.”

Dean’s still full by the time lunch rolls around, but he eats two cheeseburgers and some fries anyway. Realizing he can barely move, he goes to lie on his back and ends up sleeping until dinner.

And, strangely, he wakes up hungry. He cooks fettuccine alfredo and eats twice as much as Cas does. When they’re done, Dean suggests they watch a movie, and he ends up sprawled across the couch with his head in Cas’ lap and Cas’ arm lazily massaging his belly. 

Halfway through the movie, Dean says, “Hey, Cas. Could you maybe pop some popcorn?”

By the time Cas and Dean go to bed that night, Dean feels more content than he ever has in his life. Cas asks to be the big spoon for the first time (fucking finally), and Dean sleeps better than he has in a very long time with the warm press of Cas’ hand against his strained skin.

And that’s how it goes. Every day Dean eats basically as much as he possibly can, and then he crawls into Cas’ arms every night and lets the former angel ease the fullness with his hands. 

After three weeks, Dean has lost the definition in his stomach, which means that he looks exactly like he did in his early 30s when he drank too much. After six weeks, he stops wearing a belt. After 10 weeks, he breaks his baggiest pair of jeans while trying to pull them on. 

After four months, he finally decides to see a scale. It’s not that he’s dreading it exactly. He actually, luckily enough, really likes his body. Granted, Cas’ constant state of being turned on would’ve been motivation enough, but the fact that Dean enjoys watching his stomach grow when he puts food into it and likes that he can grab handfuls of his belly in his hands and squish it has really made this entire situation a lot easier. 

But still. Numbers make it seem so  _real_. Dean was down to 195 four months ago. He’s not even going to try to guess how much he’s gained. Instead, he just waits until Cas is out on a hunt with Sam (Dean sometimes skips hunts these days because he’s gotten pretty damn out of shape) before he strips to his boxers in the bathroom and takes a deep breath before stepping on the scale.

223 pounds. That’s 28 pounds in four months. Dean does the quick math and realizes that if he keeps the same rate he’ll be 279 this time next year. His first thought is  _holy shit  that’s a lot_. His second thought is  _I wonder what I’ll look like at 279_. 

—

"280."

"What?"

"When I get to 280 pounds, I’m going to stop gaining weight. Is that reasonable?"

Cas swallows and looks Dean up and down. “How much are you now?”

Dean feels his face flush. “247.” It had only been two months since the last time he weighed himself. He was going to hit 280 way before the deadline. 

"Come here," Cas says very seriously while reaching his hand out.

Dean walks over to where Cas is sitting and takes his outstretched hand. Cas unexpectedly pulls Dean into his lap and shoves his hand under his shirt to rub at all the soft skin.

"I love you like this. I mean, I love you anyway, but I  _really_  love you like this,” Cas states with a smile.

Dean wraps his arms around Cas’ neck, and one of Cas’ hands is momentarily distracted playing with the fat that used to be Dean’s bicep.

"You won’t be able to carry me anymore."

"I don’t care."

"My face might change and be ugly."

"Not possible."

"I might—"

"Dean."

"Hmm?"

"Shut up."

They’re kissing then, and Dean tries to be soft and gentle, but Cas hoists him up and carries all 247 pounds of him all the way to their bedroom as his mouth works furiously against Dean’s with more intensity than Dean can keep up with.

Cas basically throws Dean onto their bed and starts pulling his clothes off.

Cas’ face is buried in Dean’s belly and his hands are clawing at Dean’s hips when it happens. Dean’s stomach growls. Cas immediately stops.

Dean sighs. “God damn it. I didn’t eat dinner.”

"You ate half a box of cookies two hours ago."

_A whole box, actually_. "Doesn’t matter. Bottomless appetite, dude." (Dean tries not to think about how he’s going to control it once he’s hit his goal. At least Cas will be there to help.)

Cas gives Dean a very stern look.

"What?" Dean asks, irritated.

Cas turns and leaves the room with no explanation. 

Dean thinks about getting up and following him, but it’s too much effort, so he ends up just staring at the ceiling and patting his belly to the rhythm of “I Wanna Rock N Roll All Night.” 

When Cas comes back, he’s moving so quickly that Dean barely has time to register what’s happening, and before he can even ask, his jeans and shirt have been put back on him and Cas has tied his arms to the headboard with his tie. Cas even buttons the shirt, which confuses Dean completely because he hasn’t buttoned this shirt in the last 15 pounds, and it’s clearly evidenced in the way the material fights and pulls and surely those buttons aren’t going to last much longer. 

"Perfect," Cas whispers.

"Um, Cas? What the fuck are you doing?" (Dean tries to ignore that his dick is already showing interest in this new and unexpected scenario.)

"You haven’t had dinner. I’m going to feed you."

OK. Now Dean’s dick is  _definitely_  interested. 

"Is that allowed?"

Dean is dumbfounded for a second considering he’s the one tied up and probably should be the one asking for permission for things, but then he remembers the deal he and Cas kissed on. He nods furiously. “Yes, Cas, absolutely, totally allowed.”

"Good."

They don’t speak again for a while. Cas had heated up leftovers from the night before, and he gives Dean forkfuls of steak and mashed potatoes and corn until they’ve exhausted two plates of it all. 

Cas sets the second plate aside and scrutinizes Dean’s stomach. None of the buttons have popped yet, but they’re definitely holding on for dear life. “How are you feeling?”

Dean drops his head against the headboard and scoots his body further down onto the bed. “Still hungry. Not joking.”

Cas takes a deep breath and leaves again. He comes back with three take-out boxes from Dean’s favorite—

"You fucking planned this, didn’t you?" Dean asks.

Cas smirks and opens the first box. “Of course not, Dean. I just went out and bought these.”

"In the last three minutes?" Yeah, OK, Cas."

Cas’ smile grows wider as he pulls out a chicken wing and brings it to Dean’s mouth. By the end of that box, they’re both panting and sweating. Dean may have been just a tad inappropriate with Cas’ fingers in his mouth.

"Still all right?"

Instead of responding, Dean breathes out and his stomach pushes forward. Three of the buttons on his shirt fly off. The relief is so intense that he tries to move his hands to his midsection, but then he remembers that he can’t. 

"Not allowed," Cas comments. "I get to touch that before you do, and only when every single button is gone." 

Dean’s eyes widen. “Even on the jeans?”

"Especially on the jeans."

Shit. Dean had just bought new jeans, and they weren’t even in the vicinity of being tight yet. Lucky for him, the fullness hadn’t turned into pain yet. He was still hungry. And there were only two buttons left on his shirt.

"What’s in the second box?" Dean asks.

Cas raises an eyebrow and grabs the box. He straddles Dean’s lap before he opens it. 

Dean tries to arch his back to make his stomach meet Castiel’s, but Cas places a finger on his chest and pushes him back. “No.”

Dean can feel his face getting hot with want, but he tries his best to focus on the food and not on the absolutely beautiful man sitting on his lap right now.

The second box has ribs. Cas promises Dean that he’ll leave him tied up and hungry if Dean makes any sort of mess at all. 

The challenge ends up being too easy. Dean simply licks the sauce off of each rib and then takes the whole thing in his mouth along with Cas’ fingers. At one point Cas gets lost and drops a hand to Dean’s chest and grinds his stomach against Dean’s. 

Dean drops his head against the headboard again, mouth open and eyes closed. It just feels so good to have something pushing against his already bloated and still growing belly, especially something as good as Cas’ muscled body.

Cas immediately realizes what he’s done and scurries off of Dean’s lap. They finish the box of ribs in silence and move on to the box of potato skins. By the time they’re done, the last of the buttons on Dean’s shirt have popped off. His breathing is shallow and he’s exhausted, but he’s confident that there’s still plenty of room inside of him for more.[  
](http://deancasheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/90121812946/i-feel-so-weird-about-this-but-all-these-chubby-dean#)

"Close your eyes," Cas commands before leaving the room.

He comes back and straddles Dean’s lap again. “Open your mouth.”

And there it is. Pie. Of course. Dean is allowed to open his eyes and he sees quite possibly the largest pie of all time in front of him. He feels the strain at his waistline and honestly hopes that his last button doesn’t pop before he’s finished this masterpiece.

"How did you hide all of this food from me?"

"I am very crafty, Dean."

"We’re doing this more often."

"I should hope so."

The button pops off with half a pie left. Dean’s stomach spills out and bumps up against Cas’ thighs. Then,  _finally_ , Cas’ hands are rubbing into the taut skin and pushing all of the food around to make more room. Dean actually feels a tear escape from his eye as Cas’ hands work their magic. Then there’s a mouth on his skin, biting and sucking and worshiping every inch of Dean’s full belly. 

Dean is so blissed out that he has no idea how long Cas goes, but then eventually Dean says on autopilot, “Lemme finish the pie.”

Cas stops mid-lick and is just incapable of moving for a second. “You’re seriously still hungry?”

"It’s  _really good_  pie, Cas.” The truth is that Dean is not actually hungry. In fact, he’s so full he can hardly breathe. But something about pushing his body way past its limits is just too appealing to pass up.  

It takes a while, but when Dean finally swallows the last bite, Cas unties his hands and pulls his jeans completely off, and Dean slouches flat on the bed and hugs his stomach.

Holy  _shit_. He hadn’t really been paying much attention to what he looked like, but now that his hands are on his belly he’s realizing just how huge it’s gotten. When he was patting it earlier, it jiggled and moved and spilled out horizontally more than vertically. But now, crammed full of delicious food, he can barely even see over it, and the skin is so tight that he can almost feel the stretch marks forming. He moves his hands all over the giant mass and thinks,  _this is awesome_.

—

"What’s it say?"

"Two hundred and sixty-nine pounds," Cas announces.

It’s the first time Dean’s asked Cas for help reading the numbers on the scale, seeing as his stomach now hangs about a foot or more in front of him. 

"Really? That’s it?"

"Well you’ve been trying to slow down, remember?" Cas reassures him as he pushes Dean off the scale and into the wall so he can run his hands all over his skin. 

"Yeah. It just feels like more I guess." Dean drops his hands to his stomach and rubs where Cas’ hands aren’t. 

"Do you still like it?"

"Yeah, I really do, Cas. I don’t know, though, I kind of…I kind of wish I didn’t have back pain. And that I could walk two blocks without getting out of breath."

Cas’ hands move around to the layer of fat pooling at the base of Dean’s back as if to ease the pain. “You know, you can be both fat and healthy, Dean.”

"Can we start working on that?" Dean asks suggestively as he pulls Cas closer and kisses him.

Cas pins him to the wall by pressing his body into Dean’s and grinding against his enormous belly. “Do you mean with sex?”

"Yeah, among other things," Dean answers between kisses. He grabs Cas’ ass and squeezes him even closer. His stomach bunches up in rolls between them.

"We’re going to put 11 more pounds on you," Cas says before climbing onto Dean’s body to make him carry him, "And you’re going to be the healthiest you’ve ever been."

"Deal."


	19. Never Hungry Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Starved/hurt Cas with caring and feeding?

Dean’s first instinct is to run across the kitchen, grab Cas’ face and kiss him until he’s breathless when it happens. 

But they don’t have that kind of relationship, so instead Dean just says, “You want some coffee to go with that?”

Cas squints at him and then squints harder at the coffee pot.

"It’s disgusting at first, but it’ll help wake you up in the morning. Here." Dean shoves a mug into Cas’ hands that basically has more cream and sugar in it than it does coffee. "It’ll also help wash that toast down, I promise."

Cas takes a sip and winces, but then he continues to drink it between tentative bites of his toast. Dean’s whole body is thrumming with excitement, but he has to stay casual.

When Cas showed up at the bunker human, exhausted and starving, Sam and Dean had latched to him like overprotective parents. They had done everything - literally  _everything_ - for him for the past few months because there was something… _wrong_  with him. Cas slept a lot. And he could barely move from his room to the kitchen. He didn’t really function properly. They started helping him bathe the second time he passed out in the shower and nearly busted his head open on the tiles. They cut his hair and shaved his face and clipped his nails for him when they realized he wasn’t going to do it himself. They reminded him every day to brush his teeth and change his clothes. They tucked him into bed every night.

The only thing they couldn’t get Cas to do was eat. He simply refused anything they tried to give him and complained that everything tasted like “individual molecules.” When they finally convinced him that he would die if he didn’t put food in his body, he had started to eat just a little bit most days. But a little bit most days still isn’t enough, and now Cas is practically withering away before their eyes. It breaks Dean’s heart every time he looks at him. 

So now, seeing Cas eating toast  _all on his own_  for the first time since he moved in, Dean can barely hold back the happy tears that are forming at the corners of his eyes. 

It’s slow beginnings, but within a couple weeks, Cas is eating three real meals a day. The color returns to his cheeks, and his face stops looking so hollow and drawn. He begins talking more and taking better care of himself, and one night Dean actually cries himself to sleep because he’s so damn happy.

"Dean."

"Yeah, Cas?"

"I believe I have outgrown these pants." Cas shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his hand dropping to his fly.

"That’s all right, buddy, we’ll go into town today and buy you some new ones."

Cas is up to a 34” waist. He’s still not completely healthy for his height, but he’s getting there.

One night, Dean bakes cookies, and there’s a flutter in his stomach when Cas eats one. It’s the first time he’s eaten dessert after a meal, and he looks pleased with the flavor.

Two hours later, Dean goes to the kitchen for a beer and finds that most of the cookies are gone. “Sam, did you eat the cookies?” he shouts.

"What cookies?" Sam shouts back.

Dean forgets his beer and goes to knock on Cas’ door.

"Yes?"

"Cas, open up."

Cas comes to the door and squints at Dean.

"Did you eat the cookies?"

"Yes. They were very good cookies."

Dean again has that urge to grab Cas and kiss him. Instead he says, “What else would you like for me to make for you?”

Cas furrows his brow in concentration. “I like chocolate. And I like things with bread. I will eat whatever you cook, Dean.”

Dean’s chest swells with pride, but he pushes it down and answers, “I’ll keep that in mind, Cas.”

The next day, Cas appears in the kitchen like clockwork just as Dean is pulling a fresh batch of fudge brownies out of the oven. 

"That smells delicious," Cas comments as he takes a seat and eyes the brownies. 

Cas reaches for the pan and Dean grabs his wrist. “Whoa, they’re hot, dude. You’re gonna burn yourself. Here, let me cut them and put them on a plate and then they’ll be cool enough.”

Once all of that is done, Dean takes one off the plate, turns, and puts it at Cas’ mouth for him to take a bite. 

"Oh my god, sorry, I, uh—" Dean flounders while trying to pull the brownie back. But Cas has closed his eyes to chew, and he leans forward and grabs Dean’s wrist in an iron grip.

"These are unbelievable," he says worshipfully before taking another bite and moaning genuinely.

Dean’s going to ignore how quickly he just got an erection. He decides to keep his mouth shut and just let Cas eat the brownie until he’s practically sucking on Dean’s fingers. Dean’s going to ignore that, too.

"A second, please," Cas says before he’s even done chewing.

And it continues, Cas eating brownies out of Dean’s hand as Dean puts all of his effort and willpower into ignoring how strongly he’s affected by this scenario.

"Another one, please, Dean," Cas begs.

Dean turns and finds an empty plate. He turns back to Cas, who has dropped his hand to his stomach and is rubbing at the fullness like he’s forcing his body to make more space for more brownies.

"Uh, that was the last one, Cas."

Cas’ eyes snap open and he looks horrified. “There’s no more?”

"Are you still hungry, Cas?"

Cas looks down at his stomach and then back up at Dean. “Yes,” he answers like it’s a surprise.

Dean swallows. “Um, all right, well what do you want? I can—”

"Can you make hamburgers for dinner?"

Dean nods and swallows again. “Yeah, um, it’ll take a while, but—”

"That’s fine, I’ll find something to eat in the meantime." Cas gets up from his chair and starts searching through all of the cabinets until he finds chips. He takes three bags and leaves the kitchen.

Dean stands in shock for a second, wondering what the hell just happened.

He calls Sam to the kitchen as he starts preparing the meat to grill. 

"Yeah?"

"Sammy, Cas just ate an entire plate of brownies and then asked me to cook hamburgers and took three bags of chips to his room to ‘eat in the meantime.’"

"What?"

"I thought the same thing. I mean, we’ve been trying to get him to eat for so long…at one point do we teach him how to slow down?" Dean leans one arm on the counter and the other on his hip and looks at Sam.

"I’m not sure. I guess, um, this is definitely better than watching him starve. We probably shouldn’t do anything about it just yet. Maybe he’ll figure it out on his own."

"Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right. I just figured I’d let you know. Dinner’ll be ready in an hour or so."

Cas doesn’t really slow down. Their grocery bill goes well into the triple digits every week, and Dean tries not to freak out that Cas asks him to feed the food he makes for him every day. After a few weeks, Cas pops a button on his jeans and looks down at it in confusion.

"It’s OK, man. It was bound to happen again eventually," Dean reassures as he picks the button up off the floor.

Cas has gone up two sizes. They buy new shirts, too, because Cas’ t-shirts have been clinging to his perpetually full and growing belly.

"Dean, how often am I going to have to buy new clothes?" Cas asks seriously as they drive home.

"Well, Cas, you’ve, uh, been eating more than usual lately. People tend to gain weight when they do that. And when you gain weight, you buy new clothes."

Cas nods. “Can we stop and get something to eat?”

A week later, Dean is startled awake by a knock on his door in the middle of the night. He hears a faint “Dean?” and stumbles over to let Cas in.

"Dean, I woke up hungry and there is no food in the kitchen," Cas states with a slight edge of panic in his voice. He begins pacing back and forth across Dean’s room, one hand rubbing at his empty stomach.

Dean rubs his eyes, yawns and then realizes that Cas is getting more and more worked up. “Whoa, whoa, calm down, buddy, it’s OK,” Dean soothes as he puts a hand on Cas’ chest to stop him. He instinctively wraps his arms around Cas’ back and rubs his hands up and down.

Cas buries his face in Dean’s chest and eventually wraps his arms around Dean’s middle and relaxes.

"I don’t want to be hungry again," Cas mumbles sadly.

Dean’s heart drops. So  _that’s_  what this has been about. Dean bends his head down and places a kiss into Cas’ hair. “It’s all right, Cas. You don’t have to be, and you never will be again. As long as me and Sammy are around, you’ll never have to be hungry, OK? C’mon, we have a second stash of food in the dungeon.”

Cas visibly brightens at that and follows Dean out of the room. Dean doesn’t notice until they’re halfway downstairs that he’s got his arm behind him and Cas’ hand is in his.

Dean flicks on the lights in a small room that’s lined with shelves of food on two walls. Cas moves to a wall with no shelves and sits against it, pulling his knees up to his chest. Dean knows he’s expected to bring Cas whatever he wants.

"I want cookies," Cas says quietly.

Dean comes over with a bag of oreos and a jar of peanut butter. Cas looks at him skeptically. “Trust me, these taste good together.”

After the first peanut-butter-covered oreo, Cas spreads his legs out around Dean and leans forward excitedly. “Oh, please tell me that bag is full.”

Dean laughs. “Yeah, Cas. You can eat the whole bag if you want.”

But about halfway through the bag and the peanut butter, Cas slouches down and drops his head to the wall. His hands cup his stomach, which is sneaking out from under his t-shirt and hanging over the elastic of his boxers. “Full,” is all he manages to say.

Dean smiles and places his hand on Cas’ stomach without thinking. When Cas sighs and puts his own hand over Dean’s and presses into the taut skin, Dean almost loses it. He brings his other hand up to Cas’ stomach and they both work in slow strokes and circles to ease the pain. 

Before Dean can panic about what’s happening, he’s inches from Cas, his hands moving all over the other man’s body, sneaking under his shirt, grabbing at the love handles, digging fingers into Cas’ back, cupping his soft pecs in his hands. Dean barely notices that Cas also has his hands on Dean, moving in rhythmic motions over his shoulders, down his arms, down his back.

At some point their foreheads knock together, and they breathe each other in for a while.

Then they stop moving completely.

Then they’re kissing, and there’s no way of telling who kissed first, but it’s slow and gentle but also hungry and needy, and eventually Cas pushes Dean onto the hard floor and hovers over him, his small protruding belly falling onto Dean’s flat midsection as he leans over him and kisses tentatively at Dean’s neck. Dean wraps his arms around Cas and pulls him down flush against his body, encouraging Cas to continue what he’s doing. Cas’ kisses start involving more sucking and licking, and he rips Dean’s t-shirt over his head so he can kiss all the way down his chest. Dean’s breathing becomes labored, and his heart rate skyrockets.  _Cas is kissing me_  is the only coherent thought in his head. 

"Dean," Cas whispers between kisses. "Can we go to your bedroom?"

Dean doesn’t miss a beat as he flips their bodies over so that he’s hovering over Cas. He looks into Cas’ eyes before he takes his mouth again. He never wants to stop kissing Cas ever again. He stands and pulls Cas to his feet and then they’re kissing again and Dean tries to walk forward and make Cas walk backward, but it’s awkward and Cas stumbles and says he’s too full for this and then they’re laughing and kissing and Dean just lifts Cas around his waist like he weighs nothing and carries him all the way to his bed. Their lips never part.

Dean wakes up in the morning short of breath, and then he realizes it’s because Cas is asleep on top of him, his cheek resting on Dean’s chest and his arms wrapped awkwardly behind Dean’s shoulders.

"Cas. Wake up. You’re heavy as shit, dude."

Cas stirs and turns his face to Dean.

Dean bursts out laughing at Cas’ confused expression and adorable bedhead. He runs his hand through Cas’ hair and leans forward to kiss his forehead. “You hungry?”

Cas puts his cheek back on Dean’s chest, wiggles around to get comfortable and tightens his arms around Dean’s back. “Not really.”

Cas’ stomach growls two minutes later. When they walk into the kitchen barely awake, Sam says, “Cas, I’ll help you move all your stuff into Dean’s room today if you want.”


	20. Breakfast and Blow Jobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: To get Cas to eat, Dean strokes Cas' tummy, kisses him between bites and is basically all over him.

When Dean walks past his and Cas’ bedroom door and sees Cas inside changing his clothes in front of the full-length mirror, Dean can’t help himself. He backtracks and slips in the door.

"Hey," Dean says as he wraps his arms around Cas’ middle and hooks his chin on the former angel’s shoulder. 

Cas leans his head back to open his neck up for Dean’s kisses. He drops his hands over Dean’s arms. “Hello, Dean.”

"Did you just wake up?"

"Mmm." Cas closes his eyes and leans heavily back into Dean.

“ _You’re_  in a mood.” Dean slips his hands under Cas’ shirt and rubs the underside of his belly where Cas is the most sensitive.

"I ate too much last night."

"Pants a little tight today?"

"They’ve been tight for a few weeks now, Dean."

Dean lifts Cas’ belly up in his hands. “You’re feeling a little heavier, have you weighed yourself lately?”

"251."

Dean’s mouth falls open against Cas’ neck. “That’s 11 pounds in just the past couple weeks, dude.”

"I am aware of that. I blame your cheeseburgers," Cas says seriously as his hands fall over Dean’s and guide them to his love handles.

Dean grabs the excess fat and pulls it in all directions, making sure it’s not trapped in Cas’ jeans. “How you feeling about it?”

"I feel like I need new pants."

"No, I mean…you don’t wanna lose weight, do you, Cas?"

"God, no." Cas’ hands move protectively over his protruding belly. "But maybe I should stop gaining weight so rapidly. It’s only been 382 days since I fell."

Sixty pounds  _is_  quite a lot for a year. Dean’s hands snake around Cas’ waist and down to his thighs. Cas has to spread his legs in order for Dean to rub at the material at his inner thighs that gets destroyed when he walks. The jeans might as well be painted onto Cas’ giant thighs. 

Cas gasps at the touch, and his arm wraps around the back of Dean’s neck and pulls him closer. 

"Geez, you’re horny," Dean comments before removing one of his hands from Cas’ thighs and shoving it down the back of Cas’ pants to take a handful of his ass. There’s a ripping sound before Dean says, "Oops. Looks like you’ll have to take these off." And before Cas can even respond, Dean has unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down to the floor, ripping them more in the process. 

"Dean, please."

"What?"

Cas’ stomach growls in response.

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

Cas’ head drops in shame, but he’s smiling. “My appetite and my sex drive have gotten confused lately.”

Dean rolls his eyes and starts to leave the room. “Throw some pants on that actually fit and meet me in the kitchen. Dumbass.”

By the time Cas makes it to the kitchen, Dean already has a plate of bacon ready, biscuits in the oven and eggs on the stove. Cas yawns and absentmindedly scratches at his gut before he takes a seat at the table and drops his chin into his hand.

"Can you buy me new pants today? The only ones that really fit me are pajamas."

"Yeah, buddy, of course. What do you think you’re up to now?"

"48 or 50 would probably be best."

Dean whistles. “You can go ahead and get started on the bacon. I know you want to.”

Five minutes later, Cas asks, “Did you only cook half a pack?”

Dean turns to find an empty plate and Cas chewing. “Yeah. We need to start putting a cap on your appetite before you can’t fit through doors anymore.”

Cas leans back in his chair and scratches his stomach again. “Are the eggs almost done? I think I might starve.”

Dean gives Cas the bird and turns back to the stove. “You’re disgusting, you know that?”

"Says the man with an obvious erection right now."

"Yeah, well, I like disgusting. Sue me. And don’t pretend like you’re not thinking about jacking yourself off staring at my ass right now."

"I was thinking that, yes. It’s a very nice ass."

Dean wiggles his butt back and forth in response. 

Cas makes some inappropriate comment about what he’s going to do to Dean’s ass later, and then Dean is at the table dropping a plate of a dozen scrambled eggs in front of him.

"Get to work," is all Dean says before he takes a seat across from Cas and eats his own plate of many fewer eggs.

"I should probably start eating food with less cholesterol," Cas says with a mouth full of eggs. "Maybe be healthier about what I eat."

Dean nods. “Yeah, I can start making healthier stuff. I’ll get some recipes from Sammy.”

When Dean is done, he goes to take the biscuits out of the oven. As he’s putting jelly on two for himself and butter on the remaining eight for Cas, he hears Cas drop his fork and groan. “Full?” Dean asks without turning.

"No, these eggs are just really good and they’re almost gone. I wish we had more," Cas complains.

"Well excuse me, your highness. You’ll just have to suffer with biscuits."

When Dean comes back to the table, Cas’ plate is almost empty and his hand is resting on top of his belly. Dean can’t resist and ends up rubbing at Cas’ midsection so that he can fit more food in there.

Cas moans suggestively and drops his head back. “Don’t ever stop, please.”

Cas basically vacuums up the remaining eggs on his plate and immediately reaches for a biscuit before he’s even done chewing.

Dean feels like he might come right there in his pants. He’s never seen Cas eat like this, like he might die of hunger if he doesn’t shove as much food into his stomach as he can and as quickly as possible. Dean just sits in awe as Cas’ belly expands right there before his eyes. He can see the skin getting tighter and tighter, and the front of it is almost bumping up against the edge of the table while the underside of it is already touching the chair between Cas’ legs. His love handles are spilling over the elastic of the pajamas and his t-shirt stands no chance of even pulling over the cave Cas calls a belly button. Cas keeps subconsciously yanking his t-shirt down only to have it ride up a second later. 

Cas finishes his eight biscuits and reaches over to Dean’s untouched plate to eat his two. Dean loses it. Before he can even think, he’s crawling under the table and peeling Cas’ pants off so he can get his mouth on his dick.

Cas jumps and yells, but then a hand grabs at Dean’s hair, and Cas slouches back in his seat so his stomach isn’t in the way of his erection. He finishes the last two biscuits and rubs furiously at his belly until finally he comes into Dean’s mouth. 

While Dean crawls out from under the table, Cas says, “Great, now my appetite and sex drive are  _irreversibly_  connected. Thanks a lot, Dean.”

Dean spits and wipes the sweat off his face before plopping down in Cas’ lap. He grinds his stomach into Cas’, and Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s hips and pushes into the touch.

"I’m sorry, I just think it’s…ridiculously hot when you stuff your face, dude." Dean looks down at Cas’ belly and pushes his hands into Cas’ hips. "You’re not even completely full yet, are you?"

Cas smirks. “Would you mind making a few more biscuits?”


	21. Not a Good Fit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Chubby!Dean not realizing how big he's gotten because he's kind of oblivious to his own weight. So when he forgets his keys he decides to go through the basement window. And Cas finds him there a half hour later and teases him fondly about his new tummy while he helps him out.

"Damn it," Dean says under his breath as he searches every pocket on him for his keys. It’s been months since the last time he made this dumb mistake, and he really doesn’t have time for this today.

He goes through the usual routine: returns to the Impala to see if he dropped them somewhere, curses himself for not keeping his house key and car keys on the same damn keyring, checks all around the front door to see if Cas or Sam maybe left a spare somewhere, and then finally tucks his pride away and calls Cas.

Cas doesn’t answer.

He sends him an angry text before calling Sam.

"Hey, Dean, what’s up?"

"I locked myself out of my damn house. You anywhere nearby?"

Sam chuckles. “Nah, I’m sorry. Cas not answer?”

"No, I don’t know where he is."

"You know, for guys in a serious relationship who have been living together for two years, you and Cas really suck at keeping up with each other."

"Thank you, Sam, for your enlightening relationship advice. That’s really helpful for getting me into my locked house."

Sam laughs again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Next time I come over I’ll be sure to leave my key under the mat or something. Or, you know, you could just take five minutes out of your day and get a spare made.”

"Again, really helpful for my current situation. Thanks."

"Didn’t you used to sneak in through the basement window whenever Cas was mad at you? Why don’t you try that?"

Oh. Dean hadn’t even thought about that. It had been at least a year since he and Cas had problems extensive enough to require that kind of behavior. 

"See,  _now_  you’re helping. Thanks, Sammy. I’ll talk to you later.”

As soon as Dean hangs up, he makes his way around to the back of his and Cas’ house and spends a solid 10 minutes working the window open. He’s completely out of breath by the time he gets it, so he sits against the wall for a minute before braving the jump up to the ledge. 

_God, you’ve gotten old_ , he thinks after his fourth failed attempt at jumping. He finally makes it on the fifth try, and then it’s another entire minute before he’s pulled his body up enough to actually begin squeezing through the small space.

Small space? Didn’t he slide through this window with ease a year ago? Did he forget to open it all the way?

As Dean shimmies back and forth with all his strength and feels his skin digging into the window’s sides and his back pushing up, he realizes that something is horribly off.

He pauses and looks down at himself. His shirt has ridden up and his stomach is caught on the ledge right across his belly button. He then cranes his neck around to look at his sides and finds a generous amount of fat bunched up on either side of the window frame. 

_That can’t be right_ , Dean thinks before putting his arms back on the wall and continuing to push with all he’s got. 

He makes it another inch before he’s completely stuck.

_Son of a bitch_. He can’t even reach his phone to call anybody. He stays still for a second to catch his breath again, and then he spends the next several minutes trying to push himself through the window in either direction.

No luck. He gives up and starts playing a video game in his head to pass the time and to distract himself from the pain digging into every side of his midsection. 

He was supposed to meet Cas for dinner, but hopefully Cas will realize something is wrong and come home. He hears his phone ring seven or eight times and thinks,  _God damn  it, Cas, call Sam_.

Another several long minutes pass before finally Dean hears a car pull into the driveway. He’s about to shout Cas’ name when suddenly he feels a hard smack on his ass.

"You missed our date," Cas says from behind him.

"Yeah, um, I have an explanation for that."

"I can see that. Sam said you locked yourself out?"

"Yeah. About an hour ago. Are you gonna help me out of here?"

"I don’t know, I was thinking about leaving you here like this. Make you regret all the pie you’ve eaten in the past year."

"Cas."

"Cas what?"

"Cas, please."

"All right, I’m going to try to pull your legs."

Dean sighs. “Terrific.”

Cas makes a comment about Dean’s ass looking good sticking out of a window, and Dean tries to kick him before Cas is standing between his legs and pulling back as much as he can. Dean moves a little bit, but not enough to get out.

"That hurt," Dean comments.

"Oh I’m sorry, your majesty, I’ll be gentler next time. Just hold on, I’m going around to the other side."

Dean can hear Cas walk away and then a couple minutes later he’s walking through the basement over to the window. 

They smile stupidly at each other and Cas says sweetly, “Hey, dumbass, how was your day?” 

Dean manages to reach his arm out to pull Cas up for a kiss. “You know, the usual. Got stuck in a window, missed my date with my boyfriend. Yours?”

"Oh that’s a shame, I bet your boyfriend’s pissed. My day was good until I got stood up on a date and panicked when my boyfriend didn’t answer his phone nine times in a row."

Dean rolls his eyes. “You gonna push me out of here or what?”

Cas places a finger on Dean’s nose. “OK, but promise me you’ll never try to fit through this window again unless you magically drop 20 pounds.”

Dean frowns at Cas. “Have I gained 20 pounds in the past year? I used to fit through this window just fine.”

Cas begins pushing against Dean’s shoulders as he answers, “No, you haven’t gained 20 pounds. I’d say you’ve gained more like 30 or 40. I assumed you hadn’t noticed.”

"What? Are you jok—"

"Brace yourself, you’re about to—"

Dean falls backwards out the window and lands pretty hard on his back. Cas quickly jumps up and through it himself, lands on his feet, and helps Dean get up.

Cas wipes all the dirt and grass off of Dean’s clothes as he asks, “You OK?”

"Yeah I’m fine, except why didn’t you tell me that I had gained weight?" Dean places his hands on his hips and yeah, there’s definitely a couple soft layers of fat there.

Cas looks down at Dean’s belly before slipping his arms around his hips and forcing Dean to move his arms to Cas’ neck. “I didn’t think you cared. And I like it.” Cas moves his hands under Dean’s shirt and rubs into the sensitive skin that was pinched by the window frame.

Dean closes his eyes and hums softly. “You’re right, I don’t care. Especially when that feels so good. I should try getting stuck in the window more often.”

Cas slaps Dean’s ass and says, “No. I’m not saving this fat ass next time.”

"Hey, wow, fine. Geez." Dean leans down and kisses Cas more inappropriately than he intended. "You still wanna go on that date?"

Cas grabs Dean’s ass and pulls him closer so Dean can feel that he’s hard in his jeans. 

"…Or I could ride you for a while and you can show me exactly how much you like my extra fat."

"Yeah, that sounds better."


	22. The Space Between Your Thighs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Could it be something where Cas notices Dean's jeans getting increasingly tight and his thighs rubbing together? And what happens next is up to you.

The first time Cas notices it is at dinner one night when Dean gets up to put his plate in the sink, and Cas spills the water he was trying to drink all down his shirt. Dean just laughs and asks if Cas is all right.

The second time is when Dean is getting into the driver’s side of the Impala and Cas trips getting in the passenger side. Dean just looks at him suspiciously.

The third time, Dean jogs to catch a door that someone was holding open for him and Cas. Cas almost breaks his nose running into the doorframe.

The fourth time, Cas is reading in bed, and he glances up to see Dean removing his clothes and heading for the shower. Cas can’t take it anymore.

"Dude. If you wanted to give me a blow job, just ask," Dean says with his hands on his hips.

Cas looks up innocently from where he’s kneeling at Dean’s feet in the middle of their bedroom, his hands gripped around Dean’s quads. “Your jeans are wearing out.”

Dean rolls his eyes and turns to look at his jeans lying in a heap on the floor. “Yeah, and?”

Cas looks back down at Dean’s legs and begins rubbing his hands up and down his quads. “Your legs are so big.”

"Um, yeah, Cas, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but all of me is pretty big." Dean slaps a hand to his belly to further his point.

"Yes, but only recently have your thighs begun rubbing together when you walk." Cas pulls Dean’s boxers down in one swift motion and steadies Dean when he starts to fall back.

"Jesus, asshole, give me a warning next time? And maybe  _tell me_  that you’re all hot and bothered by my goddamn thighs instead of attacking me when I’m trying to get in the shower?”

Cas ignores Dean and claps his hands together and pushes them between Dean’s thighs and then pulls them apart so that Dean has to spread his legs. He then sticks his head between them, right under Dean’s dick.

Dean sighs in frustration. “I am too sober for this bullshit,” he says to himself.

Cas moves his head back and forth between Dean’s legs as if he’s between a woman’s breasts instead. Then he tilts his head to the side and gently bites the soft skin.

"Dude, that tickles. Your fucking hair is all over—"

"I don’t care," Cas mumbles between bites. 

Dean stays silent for a couple minutes, and then he accidentally lets slip a moan and the jig is up.

Cas huffs a laugh in victory.

Dean, realizing he’s defeated, says, “Hey, hon, can you—”

Cas presses his lips into Dean’s inner thigh, licks sloppily, and then sucks the skin hard. Dean only calls him “hon” when he wants something specific, and Cas is pretty good at reading his mind.

"Ah, yeah—yeah, that."

Cas continues until he’s marked every inch of Dean’s inner thighs, and Dean is breathing so heavy that Cas can feel his whole body moving above him.

"Dean."

 _“What?"_ Dean answers exasperatedly. 

"It’s getting hot down here."

"Yeah, no shit."

"Dean, can you—I can’t get my head out."

Dean’s body shakes with laughter and then he releases Cas’ head by spreading his legs out farther. Cas dramatically falls backwards onto the floor.

"That was quite the adventure," Cas states.

Dean pulls on his boxers and steps over Cas in order to kneel down and straddle him. He squeezes his thighs into Cas’ ribs until he can feel them give a little.

"Oh my god, you’re so strong. Please don’t break me." Cas rests his hands on the tops of Dean’s thighs. "I can’t even get my hands all the way around the front."

"I mean, I’ve put on, like, 20 pounds recently. Pretty sure most of it went to my legs."

Cas moves one of his hands to Dean’s stomach, which is bunched up on Cas’ chest. He pats it a few times as he teases, “There was no more room here, so all that pie had to move somewhere else?”

"Hey, back off. I’m adorable."

Cas smiles warmly up at Dean. “I didn’t say you weren’t.”

Dean leans down and kisses Cas sweet and slow. “All right, you’re going to have to shower with me. Your hair and face are all sweaty from living between a fat guy’s legs for 20 minutes.”

"That’s fine. It was worth it."

"Fucking weirdo."


	23. Taste Testing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cas taste testing Dean's recipes, slowly gaining weight. He gets an adorable little tummy and cherubically round cheeks.

"That’s very good, Dean. However, you should cook more onion in. Also, is there butter on the grill? Don’t use butter."

"Um, what? Since when are you an expert on making cheeseburgers?"

"I can recognize different flavors quite easily. Not as easily since I fell, but still better than most humans." At the mention of his fall, Cas’ face suddenly turns somber.

Dean reaches for him with the hand that’s not holding a spatula. He pulls him against his chest and kisses his forehead. “But everything tastes better now, right?”

Cas nods into Dean’s shirt and wraps his arms loosely around Dean’s waist. Dean continues flipping the burgers and rubbing his arm up and down Cas’ back.

"Hey, will you be my personal taste tester?"

"I don’t know what that is."

"I mean, when I cook stuff, will you taste it and tell me how to make it better like you just did five seconds ago?"

"I suppose, yes, I could do that."

"Good. Now go away and let me finish cooking this."

Cas sulks and then smacks Dean’s ass before walking back to the house. Dean laughs and shakes his head, pleased at how quickly Cas has adopted his mannerisms. 

Over the next few months, Cas enthusiastically jumps into his role as taste tester. So much so that Dean starts cooking nearly every meal. It’s always, “Dean, will you cook this? Dean, look at this recipe I found on the Internet. Dean, I bought a cookbook for you today. Will you bake more often, Dean?”

Dean gets so good at cooking that he has to stop Cas from “testing” all of the food before he can get it onto a plate. And the praises and noises Cas makes while eating seem to get more and more intense every day. One time he dropped to his knees the minute his plate was clean and gave Dean the best blow job of his life right there at the table.

And god, the sex. Apparently all it takes to get in Cas’ pants five or twelve times a week is stuffing his belly full of home-cooked food every day. It’s gotten to the point where Dean gets turned on just rubbing his hands all over Cas’ full stomach while they kiss. Sometimes Cas eats so much that he just lies on his back and begs Dean to make him feel better, and it turns out taking care of Cas’ swollen gut is as good as the sex itself. 

Cas doesn’t seem to notice or care that his stomach has stopped returning to its normal size when he’s not full. Dean watches him put his pants on every morning and wonders how he manages to get the fly done up under his round belly. He watches Cas scratch at his empty stomach every day when he walks in the kitchen, and he wants to just flat-out ask Cas if he’s even aware that he’s getting chubby.

Instead, Dean pinches Cas’ perfectly round cheeks every chance he can get. He pokes his sides when they pass each other in the hall. He pats Cas’ belly in the shower and rubs circles into it when they’re curled up in bed and jiggles the fat in his hands when he hugs him from behind and wait a second.

"Cas, um, you know I think you’re gorgeous, right?"

Cas sets down the brownie he was just about to stuff in his mouth. “Yes, Dean, you’ve mentioned it before.”

"Yeah, but have I mentioned it, like…lately?" Dean asks awkwardly as he tries not to look down at Cas’ midsection and fails.

Cas smiles shyly. “I’m aware that I’ve been eating too much lately, Dean. I’m also aware that you seem to enjoy my extra fat more than you enjoyed my thinner body. You can stop pretending like I don’t know.”

Dean clears his throat and doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands. “Um, so, you—you don’t mind?”

Cas places a hand on his stomach and strokes it lazily. “Is this conversation actually going anywhere or can I eat these brownies now?”

Dean rolls his eyes and walks past Cas, smacking his belly a few times on his way. “You’re an ass when you’re hungry.”


	24. A Lazy Off-Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: High school AU, Dean's a jock and gains weight and Cas is really into it.

Cas and Dean met at their adjacent lockers on day one of Dean’s freshman year, Cas’ junior year. Dean was small and scared, and Cas was a seasoned veteran that helped him navigate the hallways. Dean didn’t care that Cas was considered “uncool” in his own grade—it was always cool to hang out with older kids. 

When Dean shot up over the summer and joined the football team during his sophomore year (starting safety, record-holding number of interceptions in his first seven games), Cas became a little tentative around him at school.

Dean finally confronts him about it right before Thanksgiving break. “Dude, what’s going on?”

"What are you talking about, Dean?"

"Why are you so weird around me at school? I mean, you know you’re my best friend, right? You know that doesn’t  _only_  apply outside these walls?”

Cas looks down at the floor between them. “Oh.”

"What?"

"I thought…I thought maybe since you’re on the football team now, you wouldn’t want people to think…that you hang out with unpopular kids."

Dean bursts out laughing and places his hand on Cas’ shoulder. “You are such an idiot. I don’t give a fuck what these assholes think.”

So things return to normal for a while, but then something else happens. Football season ends, and within a month Cas starts acting weird again. 

It’s a different kind of weird this time. Dean catches him staring at him sometimes, and Cas always tries to play it off like he wasn’t. Cas starts blushing and getting flustered at the most random times, like when they’re watching a movie together or eating together. Once Dean’s aware of it, he tries to pinpoint specific moments, like when he reaches to adjust his rearview mirror when they’re driving home from school together, or when he yawns and stretches his back out. If Dean was a conceited dick, he would think Cas was developing a crush on him.

Fortunately for Cas, Dean  _is_  a conceited dick. “Cas, why are you acting all flustered around me lately?”

Cas nearly chokes on his glass of water. “I have no idea what you’re—”

"Oh, shut up. You’re crushing on me  _hard_. Which…I guess that’s weird because I didn’t know you were gay, but—”

"I’m not gay," Cas mumbles.

"Oh." Dean pauses. "Then what the fuck, man?"

"I mean, I, um, well…"

"Any day now, Cas."

"Of course I think you’re attractive. I’ve always thought you were attractive. But…you’re… _more_  attractive now and I find it difficult…to not react.”

"So…you  _are_  gay?”

"Oh my god, Dean, not everything has to do with sexuality. I’m 17 years old, you’re the only person I’ve been attracted to since I kissed Meg Masters in third grade, please stop trying to figure me out."

Dean smirks and leans back in his chair, locks his fingers together over his chest. “So you’re me-sexual?”

"I’m going to punch you in your stupid face, Dean."

"All right, fine, I’ll shut up. But I gotta ask: what do you mean I’m ‘more attractive now’?"

Cas immediately turns red and his eyes drop, stopping momentarily on Dean’s stomach before they find the floor.

Dean doesn’t miss the Freudian slip and takes a look down at himself. “What the fuck, Cas? Don’t tell me you’re into my lazy, off-season fatass?”

Cas chokes on air this time. “What?”

"You are  _the_  worst liar. You think it’s hot that I’ve gotten fat. You’re a goddamn chubby chaser, you dirty animal.”

"Am not."

"Oh really? So this—" Dean pinches his stomach out between his hands— "doesn’t turn you on?"

Cas refuses to look.

"How ‘bout this?" Dean sits up straight and pushes his stomach out as far as it’ll go, and then he pulls up his shirt and starts rubbing at the taut skin.

"No," Cas whispers.

"No? Not even this?" Dean takes a pack of twinkies out of the box he had been eating earlier and stuffs an entire one in his mouth. He makes obscene noises as he chews and pats at his belly.

Cas moves so fast that Dean doesn’t even have time to swallow the twinkie before Cas’ lips are on his. He pulls away after several seconds, his face covered in chocolate and his knees straddling Dean’s lap.

"Um," is all Dean says as he continues to chew. 

Cas’ hands find their way under Dean’s shirt, and he starts pulling at the extra fat. “I can’t believe how quickly you put this on. How are you going to play football next year?”

Dean closes his eyes and hums softly at the touch. He reaches around Cas’ waist and holds him in place. “Buddy, I don’t even care. If this is what it takes to get in your pants, I’ll put on a hundred more pounds and join the offensive line.” 

Cas’ eyes widen, and his fingers dig into Dean’s soft skin. “So you like me, too?”

Dean rolls his eyes and leans forward to kiss Cas again. “Of course, you dumbass. I didn’t think turning into a lazy piece of shit would be the thing to get your attention, but if I had known I would’ve started eating 3,000 calories a day a long time ago.”

"So are  _you_  gay?”

"I fucking hate you."


	25. Too Much Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dean and chubby!fem!Cas beach trip with Cas in a bikini and Dean keeps bringing her ice creams because she can't say no until eventually she gets a little bloated and self-conscious so Dean takes her back to the bunker for a belly rub with after sun lotion.

South Carolina’s not Dean’s favorite state by a long shot. He almost got mauled by a werewolf in Charleston a decade or so ago, and as a kid his dad took him and Sammy to Carowinds and left them on their own until long after the park closed. 

So when Cas suggested they take a much-needed vacation, and Dean stupidly blurted out “beach,” he cringed when he went online and discovered that the two closest ones were both in South Carolina. After a lengthy argument about it, they loaded up the Impala and took the nearly 10-hour trip to Myrtle Beach.

It’s crowded and sleazy and dirty, but it’s a beach god damn it, and they’re going to have a good time whether they want to or not.

As soon as they’re checked in at their hotel and settled with towels and chairs right by the water, they completely forget that they were complaining just a few minutes before. Dean immediately strips his t-shirt and shoes off and sprints right into the ocean. A couple minutes later, he hears his name being shouted and turns to see Cas swimming toward him.

Dean races toward her and lifts her up out of the water. “Took you long enough to get out here.”

"I can’t run properly in this swimsuit." She takes one hand off Dean’s shoulder to adjust her top.

"Oh here, let me help you," Dean teases as he nuzzles his face between her breasts. 

"Dean. Dean, there are children here. Please—oh fuck it, that feels nice." Cas wraps a hand around the back of Dean’s head and guides his face where she wants it to go.

Dean pulls back after a minute or so and asks, “Have you gone up a cup size?”

Cas rolls her eyes. “We had sex  _yesterday_  where I was completely naked and your face was in the same spot, yet  _now_  you’re asking me this?”

Dean laughs. “Aww my girlfriend’s offended that I didn’t notice her boobs. I’m sorry, sweetie, I’ll give them extra attention tonight. Should I pretend like I haven’t noticed the added weight on the rest of your body, too?”

Cas’ mouth drops open and her cheeks turn red. “Don’t act like you don’t like it,” she mumbles.

"Are you kidding me? Do you know how hot I think it is when you finish your food and start eating off my plate? Call me simple, but a girl who eats more than me is the fucking dream, man."

"You’re sure you don’t mind?"

"Cas. You’re adorable. Can I play in the waves now?"

Cas pushes her hand into Dean’s face and removes herself from his grip. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

"Oh c’mon, don’t act like you don’t want to play, too."

Cas smiles shyly and then acquiesces. They end up staying out until they’re both pruny-skinned and exhausted. When they finally return to their spot in the sand, they lie on their backs next to each other, both breathing heavy.

"You hungry?" Dean asks after a couple minutes.

"Yeah."

"You want me to go get you something?"

"Ice cream stand on the beach two hotels to the left of us. Just buy a few of them, please. And hurry."

Dean chuckles and kisses Cas’ forehead before he stands up and throws his shirt on. 

He comes back with an ice cream sandwich and a fudge bar for Cas and a cherry popsicle for himself. 

"Thanks, babe," Cas says around a mouthful of ice cream.

"You’re welcome. Don’t eat too fast, you’ll get brain freeze."

Cas ignores him, finishes the ice cream sandwich in three bites and opens the fudge bar before she’s done chewing. “Did they have any of those fancy Haagen Dazs ones? Or ice cream tacos?”

"You’re joking, right?"

"What? We just swam for an hour and it’s 97 degrees out here."

Dean finishes his popsicle and lies down on his stomach. “Whatever, dude, if you want more you can get it yourself.”

Cas huffs in frustration but then lies on her back next to Dean.

Five minutes pass before she flips over so that half her body spreads over Dean’s back. She gets her mouth as close to his ear as possible and whispers, “I need more ice cream, Dean.”

When Dean doesn’t respond, Cas starts licking and nipping at his ear.

"Are you trying to seduce me into buying you ice cream?"

"Maybe," Cas answers with a suck to the sensitive spot behind Dean’s ear.

"All right, what do you want this time?"

"See if they have fancy ones. Or tacos. Get two or three."

Dean turns over to stand up and Cas catches him in a kiss. 

"What was that for?"

"For being my personal slave."

"Shut up."

It turns out they have both ice cream tacos and Haagen Dazs. Dean gets one of each for Cas and a taco for himself. 

Cas moans when she eats them, and Dean tries not to pop a boner in front of the curious onlookers. He also tries not to stare down the few people who are giving Cas’ ice cream wrappers and exposed belly judgmental looks.

"Thank you, Dean, I think I’m full now."

"You sure this time?"

"Yes, I’m sure. I’m going to try to nap now."

Dean can’t help himself and ends up rubbing Cas’ full belly as she falls asleep.

"Hey hon, you awake?"

"How long was I out?" Cas asks groggily as she squints in the sunlight.

"Only about 20 minutes. I got something for you." Dean holds up two more popsicles. 

"I love you, you know that?" Cas says as she takes both of them. "God, why can’t I stop eating these? How many have I had?"

"Who the fuck cares? We’re on vacation, eat whatever you want."

During the fourth trip, the guy at the ice cream stand asks Dean how many kids he has. 

After the fifth trip, Cas complains that she wants  _real_  ice cream now, so Dean walks an extra ten minutes to get her a large waffle cone with four scoops. Cas gets halfway through that one before Dean can just tell that she wants another one, and he ends up getting her two more.

She falls asleep again, and Dean goes to play in the ocean. He gets a Klondike bar for her to eat when she wakes up.

_Finally_ , as the sun is getting closer and closer to going down, Cas takes the last slurp of a milkshake Dean tracked down for her and admits defeat.

"Dean. I can’t eat any more ice cream."

"Well that’s good ‘cause I think you ate everything all the ice cream stands within a half-mile radius had."

Cas ducks her chin and wraps one arm around her midsection. “You encouraged it, you asshole.”

"Yeah, well, I wanted to piss off these nosy people and make them pay for staring at my girlfriend." Dean leans over and fits his hand under Cas’ and holy shit she’s got like a gallon of ice cream right there, and he’s never felt her this full in their entire relationship.

"Oh god, are they judging me? Did they see how much I ate? Jesus, Dean, why didn’t you—oh—"

Dean splays his hand all the way across Cas’ belly and digs his fingers into the bloated skin. He adds his other hand to one of her love handles. Her belly barely gives, but he manages to start massaging all the fullness out anyway.

"Your hands are so strong." Cas closes her eyes and leans against Dean’s chest.

"And you’re so full."

"I don’t like these people watching. Can you carry me back to the hotel?"

"Sweetheart, I’m not sure I can lift you with all that ice cream in there."

"Please. Before I make you go get me more."

Dean’s dick twitches at the thought, and he questions for a moment when his girlfriend’s eating habits started turning him on and if that’s a thing that should concern him.

It really is difficult to carry Cas, and maybe Dean didn’t notice before, but now he can definitely tell that she’s put on probably at least 30 pounds in the last year or so of their relationship. He halfheartedly wonders if it’s  _his_  fault.

When they get to their room, Dean drops Cas dramatically on their bed and strips her bikini off of her. He takes a moment to admire how her stomach pokes up even while she’s lying completely flat. It rounds out and folds into a line at her waist, and she’s got long, pale stretch marks every couple inches. 

Cas breathes a sigh of relief as her hands drop to her stomach and start moving it around. Dean kneels down and places kisses all along the underside of her belly.

"Ow. I think I’m sunburnt."

Dean doesn’t even say anything before getting up to retrieve the aloe. He rubs it gently into Cas’ skin, taking his time as he feels the soft layers of fat on her legs, belly and arms. 

At some point Cas strips Dean’s bathing suit off of him and pulls him onto the bed with her. By the time they’re done with the aloe, he’s leaning against the headboard while Cas straddles his lap. She rubs her belly against his stomach and he immediately gets hard beneath her.

"How much more weight can I gain before you dump me and find a skinnier girl or guy?"

"I am offended that you think I’m that shallow."

"Really?" Cas says condescendingly.

"OK, yeah, whatever, maybe I’m shallow, but not when it comes to this. There’s not anybody prettier than you—at any size. And wow that was really cheesy, can we just have sex now?"

"Too much ice cream today, sorry. Gonna have to let me sleep it off."


	26. Happy for Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cas gets sick of listening to Dean complain about Sam's rabbit food, so he learns to cook. Cue chubby!Dean (and Cas too, if you want?) Possibly some S1, brotherly teasing from Sam? But mostly just food and fluff and Destiel and belly rubs.

"You know, I never thought I’d miss living on the road eating crappy diner food, but if I have to eat one more salad I’m moving out."

"Well, Dean, if you want crappy food you can go buy it yourself. Nobody’s stopping you," Sam answers exasperatedly.

"Yeah but why would I do that when you’re the one who does all the grocery shopping? If you would just—"

"Oh my god," Cas cuts in angrily. Sam and Dean both turn surprised looks at him. "I am so sick of this stupid argument every single day. I am going to kill you both."

"All right, Cas, if you have any solutions you’d like to—"

Cas stands up and leaves the kitchen before Dean can finish his sentence. Sam and Dean continue bickering and eating, and they only become slightly concerned when they hear the front door shut loudly.

"You should probably call him," Sam comments seriously.

"Oh so just because I’m the one sleeping with him means I have to drag him back here?"

"Um, yeah? That’s…kind of how relationships work? You  _have_  been in a relationship before, right?”

Dean rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone. He walks out when Cas answers.

Sam hears Dean yelling for a while, but then Dean’s talking softly and somewhat sweetly, and when Cas comes back everything shifts.

Cas starts cooking and Sam becomes the odd man out because Cas only cooks whatever Dean wants, and Dean only ever wants food that would kill Sam. 

It’s sickeningly cute to watch Cas and Dean in the kitchen together, Cas feeding Dean samples and Dean praising Cas’ work and Cas blushing at the compliments. It’s even more sickening to watch them actually eat together, and Sam sometimes has to go eat somewhere by himself because the activity just gets so  _intimate_  sometimes.

After a few months, domesticity really starts to show on Cas and Dean. Cas’ face gets a little rounder and his hips peek out past the waistband of his pants. But Dean. He’s got a nice growing belly that strains against his t-shirts and hangs out precariously over the bowing fly of his tight jeans. Sometimes it takes him two tries to get up off the couch, and he’s started to waddle a little when he walks.

Whenever Sam tries to bring it up, Dean just throws food at him or crowds his space and pushes his belly up against Sam’s body until he’s pinned against the wall. Then Dean walks around shirtless for the rest of the day and rubs his belly and makes seductive faces at Sam whenever he passes him.

When Sam tries to bring it up with Cas, Cas just laughs. “Your brother’s fine. His body’s natural inclination is to store fat, and the only reason he never has is because he’s spent 30 years running for his life. Besides, he and I both like him better like this.”

"OK, fine, that may be true, but—"

"I’m not going to let him just keep gaining an exorbitant amount of weight, Sam. I’m keeping an eye on him, I promise."

Sam sighs and admits defeat. “I’m trusting you, man.”

After that, Sam lightens up a bit. He notices how much  _happier_  Dean seems, and he acquiesces that Cas may have actually been right because Dean’s face looks healthier and younger than he has in years. And after a couple more months, it seems Dean hits an ideal weight and stays there.

That doesn’t mean Sam’s not going to be a bitch about the fact that his brother put on 40 pounds in half a year. 

He and Cas make bets whenever Dean’s jeans start getting tight, and Sam has won the last two times—the first when Dean’s button popped off after dinner one night and the second when the fabric ripped right down the back when he was working on the Impala one day. (Sam kept the ripped pants and left them in random places around the bunker just to piss Dean off.)

After particularly big meals, Cas will give Dean obscene belly rubs on the couch, and Sam will sneak up behind them just as Dean’s about to doze off and push the couch forward. Dean falls off every time.

Sam found Cas making a pie one time and very easily convinced him to start leaving them on the highest shelf in the kitchen. They’ve made a game out of secretly watching Dean follow the smell into the kitchen and struggle to reach up to get the pie without having to jump or climb onto the counter. The second his shirt rides up and reveals his belly hanging over the counter, they run in and pull his shirt over his head and run away. Dean catches on after the third time it happens and starts bringing a step ladder into the kitchen with him.

Sam pats Dean’s belly every time they pass by each other.

When Dean eats too much, Sam asks him when the baby’s due.

For his birthday, Sam buys Dean a paisley crop top. That one backfires and Dean wears it every day for two weeks. And Cas is really into it.

One night, after Cas has gone to bed, Sam and Dean get really drunk together and start admitting things to each other. 

After all the serious world-ending moments have been discussed, Sam blurts out, “I’m really happy for you for getting fat, Dean.”

"Well thank you, Sammy, I worked really hard on it." Dean pats his (currently beer) belly and sighs.

"No, I mean, I’m glad we’ve slowed down. You’re—so much more  _you_  now without all the angst and self-loathing and shit.”

"That’s because I’ve replaced it all with pie. And riding Cas’—"

"All right, I’m going to bed now, asshole."

"Hey, Sammy," Dean says before Sam gets too far. 

"Yeah?"

"I’m happy for us, too."


	27. Getting Dean to Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I've always wanted a stuffed and tipsy Dean that Cas is trying to get to go to bed but Dean is stubborn about it for whatever few reasons.

Sam had left the dinner table about an hour ago, but when he swings by the kitchen again he finds Cas and Dean still sitting there. “How much has he had?” he asks as he sits next to Cas.

"I’m right here, dude. I can  _hear_  you,” Dean says too loudly.

"Your brother’s tolerance is not as high as it used to be," Cas says quietly so only Sam hears. "He’s had several beers and a few fingers of whiskey, but he also hasn’t stopped eating in the past two hours or so."

"Cas, do we have any more wings?" Dean interrupts as he polishes off the last of the wings and starts licking his fingers.

"I’m afraid you ate them all, Dean."

Dean groans loudly and drops his forehead onto the table. “I can’t believe this. This is the worst day,” he whines.

Sam starts to laugh, and Cas turns a confused look on him. “It’s been years since I’ve seen Dean tipsy,” Sam explains. “I forgot how big of a baby he is.”

Dean yanks his head up then and tries to look menacing, but he ends up just looking ridiculous. “Hey. Asshole. You…you—”

"Wow, I feel so threatened right now," Sam deadpans.

Dean throws a chicken bone across the table and it misses both Sam and Cas by an entire foot. 

"Dean, I think it’s time we get you into bed," Cas says warmly.

"But Cas, I need more  _wings_.”

"You have had way more to eat in the past two hours than should be physically possible for humans. I am not giving you more food, and we do not have any more wings," Cas answers less warmly.

Dean slouches back in his chair like a kid who was just told he was grounded, but then there’s a  _snap_  and the chair collapses beneath him.

Cas and Sam jump to their feet and try to help Dean up, but he’s curled in a ball on the floor cracking up.

"I…I broke the—the chair."

"Yeah, buddy, we got that," Sam says as he reaches under Dean’s arm and hoists him to his feet.

Dean falls against Sam’s chest and looks up at his face with wonder in his eyes. “You’re the best, Sammy,” he whispers as he cups Sam’s cheek in his hand.

"OK, yeah, um, you too, Dean. But, uh, you’re really heavy, so I’m going to give you to Cas, all right?"

Dean allows Sam to push him into Cas’ arms, and Dean wraps his arms around Cas’ neck and nuzzles his face into his collarbone. 

"Thank you, Sam. I think I can manage from here."

"Good luck, man. Don’t let him have anymore—you know, food or alcohol or anything."

"Yeah, I got that now," Cas answers bitterly. He’s never quite learned how to say no to Dean.

Once Sam’s gone, Dean starts licking and biting at Cas’ neck.

"Dean, I am not food. Please stop biting me."

"I’m just so hungry, Cas. Please…”

Dean pulls his body tighter against Cas’, and Cas can’t help the twitch in his dick at the feeling of Dean’s warm, full body, all soft and big and comfortable, pressed close against his.

Cas sighs and digs his hands into Dean’s hips. Once he’s felt around to find plenty of give in Dean’s skin, he decides it won’t hurt too much to indulge Dean just a little more. He pushes Dean into a sturdier chair (the one from earlier had been on the brink of trying to break for a while) and brings him a slice of pie.

"I don’t have more wings, but you can eat this. But then we’re going straight to bed. Don’t tell Sam."

Dean lights up and eats the pie in four bites, getting bits of it all around his mouth.

Cas smiles at him affectionately and then kisses the crumbs off his face. “Bed,” he says sternly.

Dean grabs Cas’ wrist with both of his hands before Cas can pull his hand away from Dean’s cheek. “Cas, I like you. I like you, like, a lot.”

"I like you a lot, too, Dean." Cas pats Dean’s cheek and again fails at breaking free of Dean’s grip.

"No, like I  _really_  like you. I like you so much.”

They look at each other then with some of the same kind of intensity that defined their relationship several years ago. After a couple minutes, Cas smiles.

"What?" Dean asks.

"You just have a very nice face, Dean."

Dean blushes and ducks his chin. “Stop.”

Cas bends down then so that he can meet Dean’s eyes. “You didn’t mind me calling you gorgeous in bed last night.” It’s not a seduction tactic, just a fact.

"That was different," Dean says as he pulls the hem of his shirt down.

Cas pulls his hand away and pats Dean’s full belly. He can practically hear the alcohol sloshing around. “You’re gorgeous all the time, even drunk off your ass. Now let me put you in bed, please?”

Dean shakes his head vigorously and crosses his arms across his chest. 

"Fine. I’ll just leave you here." 

Cas turns and leaves the kitchen before Dean has a chance to stop him. He has no intention of actually going to bed without Dean (especially since he doesn’t even require sleep), but Dean doesn’t know that.

He runs into Sam in the hallway. “Where the hell is Dean?”

"I’m trying to trick him into coming to bed. He’s being…Dean."

Sam huffs a laugh. “I don’t know why you don’t just throw him over your shoulder and put him to sleep yourself.”

"I like to think of that as a last resort tactic."

There’s a loud clanging sound in the kitchen, and both Sam and Cas run toward it.

Dean is desperately reaching up to the highest shelf in the cabinet where Sam keeps his one guilty pleasure—Cap’n Crunch.

"Hey, hey, that’s mine," Sam says as he swats Dean’s hand away and closes the cabinet.

"You guys left, and there was no other food, and I—"

"Yeah, we know. You’re hungry. You’re also drunk and are going to vomit a lot in the morning, so you should really go to bed now," Sam answers.

Dean grabs Sam by the lapels and pulls him down to his height. “Please give me some of your cereal,” he says forcefully.

Sam easily pries Dean’s hands off of him and tells him no. 

"Dean, come on, I keep a secret stock of cereal in our bedroom," Cas lies.

Sam and Cas share a smirk as Dean immediately takes Cas’ hand and follows him back to their room.

Once they’re inside the door, Dean forgets all about the food. He gathers Cas up in a sloppy kiss and starts pulling Cas’ shirttails out of his pants.

"Dean," Cas mumbles between kisses. "Dean, bed."

"Mmm yeah, bed," Dean says in the most ridiculous "seductive" voice Cas has ever heard.

"No, I mean—" Dean removes his own shirts and starts unbuttoning Cas’ pants. "Dean, I just think—" Cas’ hands land on Dean’s full stomach and start kneading the taut skin. "We should potentially—" Cas unbuttons Dean’s pants and Dean lets out an ungodly moan as his belly falls free. "Oh fuck it," Cas says before shoving Dean back onto the bed and climbing over him.

Dean starts giggling then. “You like my gut.”

Cas licks a line straight from below Dean’s belly button up to his throat. “You say that as if it’s news.”

"I just still think it’s funny."

Cas looms right over Dean’s face and reaches under him to grab the bit of fat right above his ass. “You need sleep.”

"Well, you—need sleep."

"No, I don’t."

Dean rolls his eyes and pulls Cas down for another gross kiss. 

After a couple minutes, Cas moves on to sucking Dean’s nipples and biting his stomach. When he makes his way back up to Dean’s neck, he realizes that Dean has gone completely still.

"Dean?"

Dean’s eyes are closed and his breathing gets heavier then, his face completely relaxed.

Cas rolls off of him and yanks the covers out so he can tuck him in. While still asleep, Dean flips to his side and curls around a pillow. Cas changes into his pajamas before slipping into bed behind him and wrapping an arm around his warm middle.

He kisses his shoulder and says, “I knew I wasn’t getting laid tonight.”


	28. Holiday Weight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: So it's Christmas and Cas is baking all sorts of cookies and shit and Dean is just chilling at the table wearing a fuzzy sweater that's too small and whenever Cas puts a new batch of cookies on the counter Dean swipes a couple when his back is turned.

_Three years_. Dean’s had  _three years_  in a  _row_  worth of Christmases. That’s more Christmases than he’s ever had in his life. His 40th birthday is a month away, and all he wants to ask for is more Christmases. 

Retiring from hunting was the best decision he and Sam have ever made. It was Sam’s idea really—well, less an idea and more a series of events involving falling in love with a girl on a case and wanting to stay with her. After six months of long distance, he decided to call it quits on hunting, and Dean quickly followed.

Well, Dean quickly followed after going on a few hunts by himself and being absolutely miserable. But then Cas showed up at the bunker, human and dying, and Dean nursed him back to health. Sam wasn’t even the least bit fazed three months later when Cas and Dean announced that they were looking for jobs and a house together. 

It’s been three years of living with Cas (half a mile down the road from Sam and his wife), and Dean still can’t believe it.

"Hey, sweetheart, what are you making?" Dean asks as he saddles up next to Cas and sticks his hand in the back pocket of Cas’ jeans.

“You’re in a mood,” Cas responds without looking up from the bowl of eggs and flour that he’s mixing. “You never call me ‘sweetheart.’”

"Yeah, well, it’s Christmas, so what the hell," Dean answers with a sloppy kiss to Cas’ temple. "But seriously, what are you making?"

"That’s none of your business." Cas shoves an elbow into Dean’s side to get him to go away.

"Hey, wow, all right. I get it." Dean throws his hands in the air as he backs away, and his sweater rides up a little.

Cas notices and smirks. “Is that the sweater I gave you last year?”

Dean messes with the hem and says, “Yeah. It’s a little tight. I think I’m carrying some extra holiday weight.”

Cas inspects how the gray material clings to Dean’s midsection and just barely fits over his stomach. “From which holiday? Fourth of July?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I get the hint. I’ll go on a diet after Christmas. Or I’ll start exercising with Sammy or something. Whatever.”

Cas shrugs and turns back to his bowl. “Whatever you want, Dean. Just as long as you’re happy and healthy.”

Dean blushes at that and then blushes harder when he realizes that Cas is still capable of making him blush.  _Three years._

***

Dean smells it from the living room and gets up and moves to the kitchen on autopilot. Cas is nowhere to be found, but there’s a fresh pan of cookies sitting on the counter. Dean snags two and scarfs them down before he’s even back to the couch.

"Dean! I know you took two cookies, you ass!" Cas calls sternly from the kitchen a couple minutes later.

"Don’t know what you’re talking about!" Dean yells back.

After a while, Dean takes his laptop and moves into the kitchen to try to get some work done.

Cas gives him a squinty look when he sits at the kitchen table and winks at him.

They both work pretty much in silence for the next few hours, Dean trying to catch up on emails while Cas bakes batch after batch of all different kinds of cookies.

Dean doesn’t even try to sneak around for a cookie in the second batch. He takes it while Cas is at the sink cleaning out the beater, and Cas shouts and flicks water at him.

"Just one, just one!" Dean defends as he shoves the cookie into his mouth.

Cas shakes his head as he turns back to the sink and mumbles something that sounds a lot like, “Can’t keep his fat fingers off my cookies for  _two_  seconds.”

Cas doesn’t notice Dean stealthily taking three cookies from the third batch. 

After the fourth batch has cooled, Cas grabs a broom and shoves it at Dean’s chest while he holds the plate of cookies hostage. “Don’t come any closer. I’m not afraid to use this broom, Dean.”

As Dean’s biting into his second cookie of the fifth batch, Cas tackles him and rips the remaining two cookies from his grip.

The sixth batch is so good that Dean lifts Cas onto the counter to kiss him, and things get messy pretty fast. Twenty minutes later, they sit mostly naked on the floor with the sixth batch between them, polishing off the plate together before they get back to work.

After Dean loses count of how many batches of cookies Cas has made, he announces, “I don’t think I can eat anymore.”

Cas turns to him, exasperated, and says, “Yes, that tends to happen when you eat 40 cookies in a day.”

"It wasn’t  _that_  many,” Dean mutters.

Cas moves over to where Dean’s leaned back in his chair and runs a hand through his graying hair.

"You really put that sweater to the test today," Cas teases affectionately.

Dean puts both hands on his stomach and rubs against the sweater. “You really should put me on a diet.”

Cas pushes Dean back by the shoulders and straddles his lap. He stares down at Dean’s belly and presses strong hands into his love handles before saying, “I’d rather just buy you a new sweater.”


	29. Halloween Candy Tornado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: DEAN AND CAS BUY DISCOUNT HALLOWEEN CANDY ON NOVEMBER FIRST AND FILL THE BUNKER WITH IT AND EAT IT ALL AND THEY'RE STUFFED GROANING BABIES HALF CRYING WITH FULLNESS AND STILL EATING PEANUT BUTTER CUPS AND SAM IS LIKE /I'M OUT GUYS/

Sam’s used to Dean eating truckloads’ worth of candy every Halloween, but he’s certainly not prepared for Cas in his newly human state to pick up the habit as well.

He didn’t really even think about it much—after the third week of October he got accustomed to Cas and Dean both carrying candy in their pockets and occasionally pulling a piece out to chew or suck on. He even got used to the way they would try to throw candy corn into each other’s mouths from opposite ends of a room, or how they would  _insist_ on grabbing a family-size bag of candy whenever they stopped at a gas station or a grocery store. 

But now it’s the first of November, and after all the crap Cas and Dean stuffed into their bodies last night, Sam thinks that he’s reached the end of this thrilling journey.

Sam’s wrong.

Cas and Dean are still asleep when Sam leaves to go check on a case nearby, but when he gets back a few hours later it looks like a fucking candy tornado swept through the bunker.

"Dean? Cas?" Sam calls as he steps over the huge mess of candy wrappers littering the floor.

There’s a faint groaning sound in response.

Sam, being the concerned idiot that he is, follows the trail of wrappers all the way to Dean and Cas’ room.

The couple is in a nearly comatose state, Dean lying on his back and holding his gut like it’s going to explode, and Cas curled up in the fetal position with his head on Dean’s free arm. They look miserable.

And yet they’re  _still eating candy._

"Um. Guys?" Sam asks hesitantly.

Simultaneous groans.

"Why are you  _still_ eating candy? You both look like you’re about to puke.”

"Comp…competition," Dean manages to say as he chews.

"You’re kidding me. Please be kidding."

"Must…eat…more candy…than Dean," Cas mumbles.

"All right, um—" Sam tries to grab the pile of peanut butter cups sitting between Cas and Dean, but they both yell and swat Sam away while curling around the candy protectively.

Sam throws his hands up in the air innocently and says, “OK, fine. Call me when you’re done vomiting. I’ll be somewhere not here.”

 


	30. Poke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's starting to get chubby.

"Stop that.”

Poke.

"I  _mean it._ Stop. Hey, hey! Seriously, Cas!” _  
_

Cas just keeps right on with poking Dean’s side until he hits a particularly ticklish spot and Dean lets out a totally involuntary high-pitched squeal.

"That was a very attractive noise, Dean," Cas says seriously as he pokes the spot again.

Dean grabs Cas’ hand awkwardly and crushes his fingers. “You’re an asshole.”

"I simply enjoy testing how much your skin gives."

 _Even bigger asshole._ "All right, I get it. I know I’m growing love handles, no need to rub it in."

Cas tilts his head and asks, “Love handles?”

“ _This_ ,” Dean says exasperatedly as he takes handfuls of both of his hips and shakes them a couple times.

"Are you implying that it is common practice for humans to grab onto another’s hips to gain leverage while making love?"

"What? No, Cas, I’m—love handles means I have extra  _fat_ around my hips. I guess I need to lay off the…” He pauses because he really does not want to have to say it, “pie.”

As if on cue, Cas’ kitchen timer goes off and he turns to the oven to pull out a sheet of cookies. “Well then it’s a good thing I made cookies today instead.”

Dean rolls his eyes and looks at the cookies. He takes a whiff. Peanut butter chocolate chip. Is this a fucking joke.

Cas tentatively picks one up, blows on it and then holds it out in front of Dean’s mouth so quickly that Dean has no time to think of any other reaction besides eating the whole thing right out of Cas’ hand.

Jesus Christ that’s a good cookie.

Ignoring Cas, Dean reaches for the cookie sheet and shoves another one into his mouth without even checking to see if it was cool enough. Before he knows it, a third of the pan’s gone and his stomach is starting to protest.

He burps and drops a hand to his stomach and then—

Poke.

_"Cas."_

 


	31. New Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Chubby!Dean going under in his monkey suit with Cas at a witness' house and she insists on bringing out coffee and cake and he over indulges as usual and pops a button in the car on the way back so Cas rubs his bloated belly all the way to the bunker.

"Dean, I don’t think that’s a good idea."

"What? She _offered_ it, Cas. I can’t just refuse it. That would be rude.”

"But you were just saying in the car how your suit is too sm—"

"Shh, I think she’s coming back."

Cas tries to listen to the witness’ testimony, but it’s extremely difficult when his stupid boyfriend won’t stop eating cake. He eats his own piece in four bites, downs his coffee, and as the lady pours him more coffee he steals Cas’ plate and digs in. Cas is going to kill him.

…Right after he’s done being turned on at the amount of food Dean can put away.

Because it’s actually absurd watching Dean eat. He’s messy and unapologetic and absolutely unashamed and it’s _disgusting_ and Cas loves it.

And Dean knows it. Which is why he keeps looking over at Cas with a mischievous face that says, “What are you going to do about it?” as he takes bite after bite.

When he’s finished Cas’ cake and the rest of the coffee, the woman asks if he would like some more.

"That would be great, sweetheart, thanks."

Cas crosses his arms and refuses to look over at Dean while she’s gone. He doesn’t need to see the stupid smug look on that insanely handsome face.

After his fifth cup of coffee and fourth piece of cake, Dean is actually starting to look uncomfortable. He sets everything down and holds his middle for a second before composing himself and telling the witness thanks for her time.

They don’t say anything as they walk to the car, but as soon as they get in Dean heaves a sigh of relief and two buttons fly off—one from his shirt and the other from his pants.

"Oops," is all he says as he turns the car on and takes off.

Cas keeps his eyes trained on the road as he reaches a hand over to rub the soreness out of Dean’s bloated belly. “You do this to me on purpose.”

"What? You give me an awesome excuse to stuff my face any chance I can get. Mmm, yeah, right there. A little harder, please?"

Cas digs his fingers into Dean’s skin and revels in Dean’s soft moans in response. “I’m getting sick of buying you new suits.”

Dean places his hand over Cas’ in order to move it where he wants it to go. “Then maybe you shouldn’t spoil me so damn much.”

"Well maybe you shouldn’t look so gorgeous all stuffed and huge."

Dean blushes and tries to hide a smile. “Well maybe you should—shut up.”

 


	32. Feeling Threatened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Can you do a Sam POV chubby!Dean ficlet where Sam gets really into health and fitness (kind of like Chris Traeger in Parks and Recreation) and he finds out Dean feels sort of threatened by it?

Sam’s 30 years old, 6-foot-4 and weighs 240 pounds. The numbers are staggering when he thinks back on his 198-pound frame from when he was 22. He knows it’s all muscle, but the older he gets the more concerned he is that he’ll wake up one day and those extra 40 pounds will have turned into fat overnight.

That’s why he’s starting a new diet (ugh, he hates that word—new _eating habits)_ and exercise regimen this week. He’s super excited about it to the point where it’s all he wants to talk about.

After about two weeks on the new schedule, however, it starts getting on Sam’s nerves (more than usual) how his brother just _eats_ like it’s the end of the fucking world and he’s got to stock up so he doesn’t starve later. Dean has absolutely no reservations about his disgusting habits, and he doesn’t seem to notice that his waistline is paying the price. Sam feels like he should say something on behalf of Dean’s health, but he doesn’t want to be a dick about it. So Dean’s getting soft around the edges. Whatever. His life, his choices.

It’s not until week four that Sam realizes something is…definitely _off_. Whenever Dean sees Sam leaving for a run or mixing a protein shake, he makes a more dramatically judgmental face than usual and then rolls his eyes before leaving the room. The one time Sam asked about it, Dean had mumbled, “It’s nothing” before leaving. Additionally, Dean’s habits have somehow gotten even worse. Sam can’t remember the last time he saw his brother in the bunker _without_ some piece of garbage he’s stuffing in his face. One of Dean’s shirts popped a button the other day, and he just shrugged and unbuttoned it the rest of the way before continuing to eat his (second) cheeseburger. It’s starting to really worry Sam how Dean just eats and eats until he’s so full he has to sit back in his chair and rub his stomach for several minutes before he can move properly. And then most of the time Sam finds him eating even _more_ mere minutes later as if his appetite is insatiable.

Sam finally caves one day when he walks in the kitchen to find Dean leaning against the counter eating an entire pie straight out of a tin. It looks like it’s not the first thing he’s eaten, either, if the fullness of his round stomach is anything to go by.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing?"

"Um, running a marathon. What’s it look like I’m doing?" he responds around a mouthful of pie.

"I’m just—I’m worried about you, man. Are you stressed out or something? You’ve just been…eating more than usual. You know, I can help you out if you want. This new thing I’m doing is really awesome."

Dean takes one final bite and drops the empty tin to the counter before slapping on a fake grin and saying, “I’m fine, Sammy.”

It’s not until later that night when Sam gets home from the gym that he overhears Dean talking to Cas in their room and finally understands.

"…gained weight, but whatever. Fuck Sam. You like me like this, right?"

"Of course I do, Dean. But that doesn’t really matter if _you_ don’t like you like this. Why don’t you just talk to Sam? Tell him you feel…threatened.”

"Yeah, that’ll go over well. ‘Hey, Sam, I need you to stop being so obsessed with fitness and healthy crap because it makes me overeat to compensate and now I hate myself even more than I did before.’"

Sam walks away after that. He goes straight to the kitchen and throws away all the “healthy crap” he’s been eating in the past month.

He didn’t really like any of that stuff anyway.


	33. Compensation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dean is an emotional eater. After something tragic happens (pick anything) Dean really loses it. He stops talking to Cas and binges often, giving him a little belly. He feels horrible about getting pudgy but uses food to ease the feelings. Cas gets worried about his boyfriend so he poofs in just as Dean is finishing a binge (stuffed tum, food everywhere). Dean gets all bashful and insecure about his tum and they tackle his insecurities and emotional distress.

_Two hundred and forty-three pounds._ That’s what the scale said this morning. That means Dean’s gained 10 pounds since the last time he weighed himself, and 36 pounds total in the past six months.

And of course, like usual, he’s coping by stuffing his face with whatever the fuck he can get his hands on.

Dean’s sure it has something to do with Sam moving across the country, or their mom passing away—whatever it is, Dean turned to food to make him feel better. Every time he feels bad about anything these days, he just eats to make the pain go away.

It sucks when he’s disappointed at the numbers on the scale, and _eats_ to make himself feel better about it. A little counterproductive to say the least.

But whatever. The box of donuts he just finished is sitting warm and heavy in his belly, and it feels _good_ when he rubs a hand into his strained skin. It feels even better when he continues eating, when his stomach just keeps making room for more. He manages three sandwiches, half a box of honey hut cheerios and four chocolate cupcakes leftover from a party before he has to take a breather. He unbuttons his jeans and heaves a sigh of relief as his stomach takes up all the space it needs. _God,_ the thing is big. And somehow, right now, despite how fucking full he is, his stomach still hasn’t reached maximum capacity yet. When he grabs at it, he can still take handfuls of skin in his hands and pull them easily. If he was _really_ done eating, this thing would feel more like a bowling ball or a watermelon or something.

It’s a slow walk (more like a waddle if he’s being honest) back to his kitchen, and he decides to just stay there for a while instead of making the effort to go back to the living room. He feels a thrill of anticipation in his gut when he finds a pint of ice cream in the freezer, and it turns out he’s got enough ingredients to make a sundae out of it. Halfway through eating that, he has to spread his legs at the table so his stomach has more room to grow. He feels better with each bite, and he keeps one hand on his side so he can feel every last bit of food in there.

He has to stop again after the ice cream, and he gives his belly a pep talk pretty much begging it to make more room because there’s a family-sized bag of cheetos with his name on it.

It takes Dean two tries to get out of his chair, and when he stands he realizes that his shirt is no longer able to pull over the lower roll of his gut. He lifts at the mass and then pats it a few times before deciding that yeah, he’s definitely still hungry.

***

Cas has called Dean six times today, and nothing. Usually Cas isn’t this needy, but he hasn’t seen Dean in almost a week and they were supposed to meet for dinner tonight. But Cas never heard from Dean, so he’s just been sitting around at home waiting for a call back.

Fuck it, Cas thinks around 7 p.m. before grabbing his coat and keys and heading over to Dean’s.

When he knocks on the door, there’s no response, but he can hear the TV going. He tries opening the door and finds that it’s unlocked, so he peeks his head in and calls, “Dean?”

There’s stirring from the living room, so Cas makes his way over there and finds an unexpected but not entirely unsurprising sight.

His boyfriend is fast asleep on the couch with one hand on his stomach and the other stopped on its way to a nearly empty bag of cheetos. There’s crumbs and empty food boxes and wrappers all over the place, and by the looks of Dean’s huge stomach it appears he’s the culprit.

Cas sits tentatively on the edge of the bed and slides his hand underneath Dean’s so he can rub his dangerously full stomach. How this man managed to fit this much food in his body is a mystery to Cas.

Dean blinks awake cutely and mumbles, “When’d you get here?”

"Ten seconds ago. We were supposed to meet for dinner, remember?"

Dean sighs and grabs Cas’ hand on his stomach. “No. I’m sorry, babe. I, um…”

"Spent all day eating your weight in junk, yeah, I can see that," Cas says with a laugh.

Dean tucks his chin in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

"There’s no need to be sorry. Do you…want to talk about why you ate so much today?" Cas presses the heel of his hand hard into Dean’s skin and feels a moment of triumph when Dean closes his eyes and hums at the touch. He adds his other hand so he can work out the fullness faster.

"I weigh 243."

"What?"

"I weighed myself today, and I weigh _243 pounds_ , Cas. I weigh more than Sam now, and he’s taller and muscly.”

"So you spent all day eating because you were feeling self-conscious about your weight?"

"Yeah. It…makes me feel better."

Cas moves his hands to Dean’s hips and rubs in slow circles. “But then you feel worse about how you look?”

"Yeah."

"Do you avoid me because you think I’ll judge you for gaining weight?"

Dean pauses as if he’s thinking, and then he admits, “Yeah. Yeah, I think I do. I guess…I’m worried you won’t love me if I’m fat.”

"Dean, I’ll love you no matter what. And I think you’re gorgeous no matter what. Let me help you through this, OK? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. Talk to me, please."

It takes a little more prompting after that, but eventually Cas gets Dean to open up about everything he’s been going through, and he admits that he’s been using food as his only coping mechanism. Cas just listens and rubs Dean’s midsection until he finishes speaking.

"Thank you for telling me all of that. I just have one question. Are you hungry right now?"

Dean smiles shyly at Cas. “No. No, I don’t think I am.”


	34. You Look Terrible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dean doesn't have to eat while he's a demon. As soon as he's undemonized, Cas helps him make up for lost time. All in one evening. It was a bad idea. 
> 
> 10x3 coda, Wincestiel

"You look terrible."

Dean gets off the bed and moves over to Cas so quickly that despite the new grace, Cas still stumbles back when Dean presses his body against his and misses his mouth trying to kiss him.

"Sorry," Dean mumbles as he grabs Cas’ face and kisses him more gently this time.

"I missed you."

“You look good.”

Cas wraps an arm around Dean’s waist and then pulls back suddenly. “Oh my god, Dean, when was the last time you ate?”

Dean winces and says, “It’s been a while since I’ve needed to.”

"Well that’s changing right now. Sam went to get you food, but I’m going to check the kitchen to see if I can find anything in the meantime."

"Cas—wait—you don’t have to—"

"Shut up, Dean, you look awful and you’re too thin," Cas interrupts as he walks out the door.

He manages to find a box of noodles and some tomato sauce, which is good because pasta’s one of the things he knows how to make without ruining it. _What the hell,_ he thinks as he pours the whole box of noodles into a pot of boiling water.

Dean tries to tell him it’s too much when he comes back with two huge bowls of pasta, but then he shuts up when Cas starts feeding it to him. He eats like he hasn’t eaten in months, which actually might be true. He’s halfway through the second bowl when they hear Sam get back.

Cas hands the bowl and fork to Dean and says, “Keep eating. I’m going to get whatever Sam brought you.”

Cas runs into Sam in the hallway and starts taking the armful of fast food bags he’s carrying.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Sam asks.

"Feeding Dean. You probably don’t want to be there for it." Cas starts to walk away, but Sam jogs up beside him.

"Hey! No, you’re not taking care of my brother by yourself. I’m coming, too."

Cas gives him a skeptical look but then shrugs and keeps walking to Dean’s room.

"Heya, Sammy," Dean says when they open the door. He’s finished all the pasta and is rubbing his stomach lazily. "Is that White Castle? I’m fucking starving."

Sam laughs and sits on the edge of the bed to open the bag he was carrying. “Yeah. I bought the place out. Ready to clog your arteries again?”

"Hell yeah," Dean answers as he leans forward just enough to take a burger from Sam.

Cas just stands back and watches for a minute as Sam and Dean talk quietly back and forth, Dean stuffing his face and Sam taking his empty wrappers and handing him more food. 

Eventually Dean turns his eyes on Cas and says, “You going to join us, Cas? I could use some help fitting more food in here.” He pats his stomach a few times, and Sam laughs.

Cas walks over to the bed and unbuttons Dean’s jeans for him before sitting down and rubbing his belly, which definitely feels properly full now. “You feel a lot better now than you did earlier.”

"Yeah, well, I’ve got a pound of pasta and three cheeseburgers in there now."

"How are you feeling?" Sam asks, scooting his way up next to Dean so he’s not blocked by Cas.

"Starving."

Sam smiles and prods at Dean’s stomach. “Whoa, yeah, you can definitely fit more in there.”

"Did you get anything else other than cheeseburgers?" Dean asks as he finishes his fourth one and throws the wrapper across the room.

"Yeah, of course." Sam reaches over for one of the other bags and pulls out a piece of pie.

Dean’s face lights up like he’s never seen anything so beautiful. “Sammy, you shouldn’t have. I could kiss you right now.”

"Yeah, yeah, eat the pie first." Sam ruffles Dean’s hair and leans over to kiss his forehead.

Cas has never seen them so affectionate before, and he decides to use it to all of their advantage. “Sam, could you take over rubbing Dean’s stomach? My hands are getting tired.”

Dean looks at him skeptically, but he’s too busy shoveling pie into his face to actually say anything about it. Sam takes over for Cas enthusiastically, and Cas scoots back a little to give them some space.

Five slices of pie later, Dean is slouched down on the bed with his legs sprawled out, and he’s telling Sam where to move his hands, and they both work their fingers into the taut skin together.

"Full yet?" Cas asks.

"Nah," Dean says with a huge shaky breath.

"Well, all we have left is fries. Let me go see if I can find anything else for you." Cas tosses the last bag on the bed before leaving the room.

He takes his time in the kitchen, and all he manages to find is half a box of wheat thins. Oh whatever, Dean doesn’t really even need more food anyway.

When Cas returns, he finds Sam and Dean sound asleep, Sam curled into Dean’s side with his good arm resting on Dean’s protruding belly.

There’s space on the other side of Dean, and Cas hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in a while…

He kicks his shoes and coat off and crawls up next to Dean and tucks his head under his arm. Sam stirs a little when Cas lays his hand on top of his, but Cas just squeezes it and lets himself drift off to sleep.

He’s startled awake two hours later at Dean squirming around to hug his middle, and he’s making horribly painful groaning sounds. Sam and Cas both hop off the bed and ask him what’s wrong, are you OK, how can we help.

"Why’d you idiots let me eat that much?"


	35. Not a Great Halloween Costume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dean eating his way out of a sexy Halloween costume. With Halloween candy.

It was stupid, really. Dean bought it on a whim and, well, he hasn’t seen Cas in a week so he thought it would be nice to send him some pictures.

Very early on in their complicated relationship Dean learned that Cas is into cross dressing. It happened on accident—they were making out fully clothed on Dean’s bed and he sneaked his hands under Cas’ waistband and onto his ass and stopped when his fingers hit lace.

And it turns out Cas likes women’s clothing on Dean more than he likes it on himself. Dean thinks it’s pretty much the most awesome thing that’s ever happened to him.

As if Cas wasn’t perfect enough, he also loves making sure that Dean is well fed. It’s not so much a kink as it is a need to take care of Dean, but either way it’s totally cool with him. He’s put on 30 pounds in the past couple months and frankly feels better than he has in his whole life. (Sometimes when he’s alone he eats a little more than necessary and then sneaks his hand under his shirt and just feels his extra weight for a while. It’s mesmerizing thinking about how well Cas provides for him, and how obvious it is for everyone to see.)

But now, it’s the day after Halloween and Dean finally convinced himself to put on this sexy nurse costume and send pictures to Cas, but it all just seems…stupid.

The costume doesn’t accentuate his features enough and it’s not as sexy as it looked on the package and his pecs haven’t softened enough to fill out the top piece and—

Really the only way to resolve this is to make himself look bigger.

Lucky for him, he bought a lifetime supply of Halloween candy when he was buying the costume. It takes him just a minute to dig through his closet and find the stash. He takes a picture of it and texts Cas, _How much of this do you think I can eat?_

Cas responds just a second later,  _I would be disappointed if you stopped before that costume rips off you._

OK, so maybe it _is_ just a little kinky. Whatever.

Dean gathers most of the bags of candy up in his arms and throws them on his bed. He adjust his skirt around his hips so his belly can hang over the waistband, and then he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

He thinks about Skyping with Cas while he does this, but then he decides this would be better completely alone.

He finishes a one-pound bag of m&ms before he has to readjust his position and pile a bunch of pillows up to lean back against.

After six Hershey bars and two bags of Lindor truffles (the best chocolate ever, honestly), he can feel his costume stretching and pulling in places it shouldn’t be.

A bag of Laffy Taffy and four Snickers bars later, Dean’s feeling so uncomfortably full that he has to spread his legs to give his stomach more room to grow. He drops his head against the wall and slouches down more, moving both of his hands to his bare stomach to pat and rub out some of the soreness.

The belly rub turns into a 20-minute affair, and he’s feeling ready for more candy by the end of it—and he’s hard. Yeah, definitely a kink.

He shoves as much Toblerone in his face as he can fit before hiking the skirt up and getting his hand on his dick. Yeah, that’s much better. On a whim he grabs his phone and takes a picture for Cas.

_Apparently eating this much candy makes me horny._

_I’m bringing candy with me when I come over from now on._

Dean laughs and sets his phone down so he can pick the Toblerone back up. He eats and jerks himself off in tandem, and he comes when he starts thinking about how great it would be to have Cas stuff him until he can’t move.

A bag of Almond Joys, some Skittles and half a bag of Reese’s later, the skirt of Dean’s costume finally rips straight down the seam.

Dean takes a huge sigh of relief and grabs his stomach with both his hands.

Holy shit, he’s massive. There’s barely any give at all in his skin, and his stomach is pushed out so far that he can’t see his belly button. When he’s capable of leaving this bed, he’s going to weigh himself. Surely he’s put on at least 5, maybe 10 pounds since the last time he checked.

He takes his phone and holds it out as far as he can to take a picture from under his belly. Then he sinks down to his side and snaps a picture of his body curved sideways into the bed. He flips onto his back and takes a profile shot to show off how far his stomach sticks out even when he’s lying flat. He sits up completely and takes a shot of how bunched up and fat his belly looks when he’s hunched over. And finally, he pushes his pecs together and demonstrates how much like breasts they look right now.

_I’m coming home tonight,_ is the only thing Cas texts him back.

Dean laughs and finishes the bag of Reese’s.


	36. Discount Halloween Candy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fem!Cas and chubby!fem!Dean buy discount Halloween candy and eat in the car on the way home.

"No, candy corn is disgusting, we are not—"

"Hey, you don’t have to eat any of it. _I’ll_ buy it. We don’t have to fucking share.”

Cas crosses her arms and gives Dean a judgmental stare. Dean’s got her arms full of half-price Halloween candy, and she really does look like she might not be willing to share.

"Will you stop looking at me like that? It’s not like I’m going to eat this all _right now,”_ Dean says exasperatedly.

Cas smirks and steps close to Dean so her chest is pressing into the candy. She swirls a couple fingers lazily into Dean’s belly. “You sure about that?”

Dean swallows and clears her throat. “Sweetheart, we’re in the middle of Walmart—”

Cas pulls Dean’s face down to hers and kisses her hard. There’s a lady on their aisle staring at them when they pull apart.

"Sorry," Cas says through laughter before pushing Dean out of there.

"Hey, wait, I didn’t get—"

"Dean, you have seven bags of candy in your arms. Besides, there are displays at the front of the store with more."

Dean’s practically shaking with anticipation at the register, and Cas can’t believe how fucking ridiculous her girlfriend is. Not that she doesn’t love watching Dean stuff her face and fill her stomach up, but she certainly doesn’t understand what the big deal is about discount Halloween candy.

They have a half-hour drive home, and Dean tosses the keys at Cas for her to drive because “I have a few pounds of candy to eat.”

Dean’s polished off the candy corn before they’re even out on the main road. She rips open a bag of Reese’s and tosses two at Cas before opening one for herself. She eats six in the time it takes Cas to eat her two.

Dean’s ripping into the third bag (an assortment of Hershey’s chocolate) in no time at all, and Cas just says, “Don’t go _too_ fast, you know you never like it when you go too fast.”

Dean gives Cas one of each type of chocolate and keeps right on eating. She gets halfway through the bag before closing her eyes and leaning back in her seat.

"You all right?" Cas asks.

"Peachy. You’ll start feeding this candy to me when I hit a wall, right?"

"Of course." Cas takes one hand off the wheel and reaches over to rub Dean’s belly. She feels full but not _properly_ full yet.

Dean sighs and shoves another piece of chocolate in her mouth. “Yeah, keep doing that. Make more room for me.”

By the time they’re pulling into a parking spot at their apartment complex, Dean is halfway through her fourth bag of candy, and she’s taking long, deliberate breaths as Cas strokes her stomach.

Cas unbuttoned her pants for her a few miles back, and thank goodness because Dean’s stomach really needed the room on her lap. She probably should’ve thrown those pants away 10 pounds ago anyway.

Dean’s so blissed out she asks Cas to carry her inside. Luckily Cas is stronger than her 5’4” frame looks, and she’s able to cradle her 5’8”, 192-pound girlfriend in her arms and get her into their bedroom.

Cas is able to get Dean to finish bag number four and half of bag number 5 before she decides it’s time to call it quits. Dean is lying flat on her back with one arm behind her head and the other resting right over her bellybutton. Cas is always amazed at how perfectly round and soft Dean’s stomach is when it’s full, like it was made to be that way or something.

Cas pushes her hands into the underside of Dean’s belly, back and forth until there’s a little give in it. Just for kicks, she tries to pull the fly of Dean’s pants back together, and they’re still an inch apart even when Dean pulls her stomach out of the way. Cas gives up and Dean drops her stomach and laughs so hard that her fat shakes. They both instinctively pat her stomach a few times to shake it back in place.

"God, I love Halloween," Dean says reverently.

Cas starts peeling her jeans and panties off and says, “Yeah. Me too.”

 


	37. The Importance of being Well Fed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dean knows Cas is ace and he's 100% fine with it but one day Cas is acting a little flustered around Dean and Dean can't figure out why (it's because he's getting chubby) so then they have the whole 'I don't like sex but I have this kink' talk.

"Cas, what’s up with you lately?"

"I have no idea what you’re referring to, Dean."

"Really? You mean it’s my imagination how weird you’ve been around me lately?"

"I—what?"

Dean sits at the kitchen table and gestures for Cas to sit across from him. “You’ve been looking at me weird. Like you—I don’t know, like you’re ready to jump my bones or something.”

Cas squints. “I don’t understand what that—”

"Sex, Cas. You look like you want to have sex with me."

"Oh. No, I’ve never desired that. We’ve had this con—"

"Then what’s the deal?"

Cas blushes and looks down at the table, and Dean is so fucking confused. “It’s not—it’s not a sexual attraction, but…”

"But _what?”_

"You’re gaining weight."

What. “Come again?”

"In the past month or so, you’ve started gaining weight—quite rapidly, I might add—and I…it pleases me. It’s very, um, pleasurable to watch."

Dean stares open-mouthed at Cas for several long seconds.

"I don’t know why. Apparently I am aesthetically attracted to fat or something."

Dean can tell Cas is embarrassed, more embarrassed than when he explained how he doesn’t feel sexual attraction, so he decides to take this seriously. “It’s OK, Cas. Not the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard. Are you—what do you want to do about it?”

Cas looks back up at Dean and tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

"Well, you said it’s—pleasurable or whatever. But are you comfortable with that? I mean, you’ve been acting kind of awkward, so I’ll go on a diet if it—"

"No! I mean. I’ve been acting strange because I didn’t want to tell you. I definitely do not want you to lose the weight you’ve gained."

Dean can feel his cheeks heating up. Talking about how he’s porked out recently isn’t exactly the most fun conversation. But hey, if Cas likes it then who the fuck cares. The more junk food the better. “Would you like me to…keep gaining weight?”

Now Cas’ cheeks are reddening. “You may do as you please, Dean, but it would make me very happy if you continued to gain weight.”

"How much?"

"Whatever you feel comfortable with."

Dean smiles sheepishly at Cas and says, “You’ve been pushing me to eat more lately, haven’t you?”

"I—yes, perhaps I have. I would, um, I would love to feed you by hand sometime."

Dean’s only a little bit confused when his dick twitches at the idea. He simply nods at Cas, and that’s the end of the conversation.

There’s a fundamental shift in their relationship after that, though. Cas stops being awkward and starts being more inappropriate than he probably realizes.

Cas has never really wanted more physical contact than just a touch to the shoulder or the hand, but now he wraps Dean in his arms and grabs at his belly any chance he can get. After particularly big meals, he reaches over and shoves his hand up under Dean’s shirts without warning. He pinches Dean’s ass and hips when they pass by each other, and he curls against Dean’s side at night and presses the heel of his hand all over Dean’s stomach until they both fall asleep. And none of that even compares to the times Cas has fed Dean and stuffed him so full of food that he can’t move.

Sure, Dean’s had to buy a whole new wardrobe to accommodate his growing waistline, but it’s fucking awesome. He’s never gotten this much attention in his life, and, well, to be honest, being well fed is better than having sex.

 


	38. Bake Sale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cas literally cannot control himself when he sees brownies. Sam bakes several batches for a bake sale. Cas and Dean are in the bunker alone.

Dean walks into the kitchen and finds that it’s more like a war zone than anything.

There’s overturned pans on the floor and chocolate fingerprints all over the counter. There’s saran wrap ripped off of plates that are covered in crumbs as if an animal came in and tore through everything. Dean knows exactly what this is.

He finds Cas on the floor, leaned up against the fridge and licking brownie mix out of a bowl. Not that Cas was small to begin with (they passed that road a year ago when Cas tried cake for the first time), but he looks downright enormous right now. The fly of his jeans is undone and flipped completely out as the underside of Cas’ belly pushes against it and onto his thighs. His shirt is straining (and failing) to even cover his belly button, and his love handles are spilling out so much that Dean can’t even see Cas’ belt loops underneath the rolls of fat. He looks so full that Dean’s pretty sure he’s watching new stretch marks grow right before his very eyes alongside the dozen or so wrapping all the way around to Cas’ lower back. Dean crosses his arms and watches as the idiot licks the bowl furiously while keeping a pudgy hand rubbing along his gut as if to will it to fit more in there.

"Cas," Dean says, and Cas jumps and his belly shakes before falling back in place.

"I didn’t know you were there."

"Did you eat all the brownies Sam made for the bake sale?"

Cas’ eyes dart around the room, and it’s like he’s just now noticing what he’s done. “I think I might have.”

"Cas, there were like 40 brownies. At least. How long have you been in here?"

Cas breathes heavily and leans back more as he strokes a hand up and down his stomach. “Not long enough. I could eat 40 more, I swear.”

"You’re going to be sick is what you’re going to do."

"Do you think Sam will make me more?"

"I think Sam is going to kill your chubby ass for eating all the brownies that were supposed to be for a bake sale."

Cas stands very deliberately and stretches his arms above his head to crack his back. Dean would be lying if he said he didn’t stare at Cas’ stomach hanging low and heavy and out for the whole world to see. God, he’s so big right now. Dean’s never wanted to touch him so bad in his life. When Cas is done stretching, he pulls uselessly at the hem of his t-shirt and then pats his middle several times. “Well, in that case we should get out of here. Are you hungry? I’m kind of craving that Mongolian place for dinner.”

 


	39. Stretch Marks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Something about Cas having stretch marks and then Dean making fun and then Cas kind of feeling bad and then Dean saying sorry and then that night Dean kisses Cas' stretch marks before sexy times.

It’s not an uncommon sight to walk in on. Ever since Cas became human, he spends a lot more time in the kitchen than he did before. Dean thinks it’s adorable that his angel has picked up _his_ eating habits instead of Sam’s, and it’s starting to show most prominently in his hips. So yeah, it’s not uncommon to walk into the kitchen to find Cas searching through the cabinets for a snack.

What’s interesting today, however, is that Cas is on his tip toes reaching up to the highest shelf, and his shirt is riding up to reveal his hips protruding out past the waistband of his jeans—Dean’s thinking about coming up behind him and latching onto those hips, but then he notices faint little lines in his skin.

Stretch marks. Castiel has a collection of small, white stretch marks on his hips from where he’s grown in the past couple months.

Dean comes up behind Cas and places a hand on his lower back before reaching up next to him and grabbing the bag of goldfish he was trying to get.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas says as he takes the bag from Dean.

"You look cute reaching up there," Dean responds with a hard rub to Cas’ hip.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas says again before shoving a handful of golfish in his mouth.

"I like the stretch marks you’re growing, buddy."

"Excuse me?"

Oh. So Cas hasn’t noticed. Dean traces one with his finger and explains, “These faint lines on your hips. They happen when you grow too fast. Like when you eat a lot of goldfish.”

Cas stops his hand halfway to his mouth. “They appear with weight gain is what you’re saying.”

Dean laughs. “Well, yeah, but—”

Cas drops the bag and leaves the room.

Oops.

 

 

"Cas?"

Cas doesn’t look up from his book.

Dean sits on the edge of the bed and rests a hand on Cas’ shin. “I’m sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean to—”

"Stretch marks are considered ugly by American standards. Fat is considered ugly as well. If you wanted to tell me that you do not find me attractive because I am no longer as thin as I—"

"Whoa, Cas, back up. Let’s get something straight: I think you’re hot as hell. Stretch marks and extra weight and all. Wait, scratch that— _especially_ with the stretch marks and extra weight and eerily similar to mine eating habits. You got that?”

Cas stares down at his book. “Are you mocking me?”

Dean deliberately crawls up on the bed next to Cas and buries his face in his neck. He wraps his arm around his waist and digs his fingers under the waistband of Cas’ jeans so he can grab as much of his hip as he can reach. “Are you going to make me prove how gorgeous I think you are?”

Cas hums and tilts his head back in response.

Dean spends the next few minutes grabbing and licking Cas’ hips until his angel is practically begging for Dean to take his clothes off.

Yeah. Stretch marks. Definitely a turn-on.

 


	40. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean get invited to a witness' house for Thanksgiving with their extended family.

“Come on, Sammy, it’s the perfect opportunity to find our guy. Or at least get some information. Quit pouting.”

“It’s not—I’m not pouting, you asshole. I just think it’s _weird_ that we’re crashing somebody else’s Thanksgiving, all right? And I know you don’t give a shit about the case, you just want free food.”

Dean shrugs and looks over at Sam with a smirk.

Sam knows he’s not going to win this argument, so he’s not really even sure why he’s putting up a fight. He can’t remember the last time they celebrated Thanksgiving (if ever), so he might as well indulge Dean just this once. This family seems harmless enough anyway.

They went to interview them two days ago because a guy dropped dead of unknown causes on the sidewalk outside their house, and he was the third person to have done so in this neighborhood. An elderly woman had answered the door and very kindly invited them in, and it was all very strange how unaffected she seemed to be by a dude dying in her front yard.

They ended up talking to her for an hour and a half, and Sam’s pretty sure Dean ate an entire loaf of the pumpkin bread she offered before he moved onto a plate of chocolate chip cookies and basically had to be dragged out of the house before he could get his hands on anything else. As they were leaving, the woman nonchalantly invited them for Thanksgiving because she felt bad they had to work during the holidays.

Dean had enthusiastically agreed before Sam could politely decline, and now here they are parked on the street in the freezing cold about to go spend Thanksgiving with a family they’ve never met before.

Before they’ve even stepped two feet out of the car a little girl, probably about 7 years old, runs past them yelling at a Maltese that must’ve escaped from the house. The little girl stops right in front of them and looks up curiously. She doesn’t seem scared or anything, so somebody must’ve mentioned there would be visitors today.

“You’re the cops,” she says matter-of-factly, confirming Sam’s suspicions.

Dean squats down to look at her eye-to-eye. “We are, kind of. You heard we were coming?”

She nods vigorously and puts her hands on her hips. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Dean, and this is Sam.”

Sam smiles and nods down at her when she squints up at him. The small dog runs past and nearly barrels over the girl, but Dean catches her before she can fall.

She immediately pushes away from him and straightens out her coat and hat, and Dean puts his hands up defensively. “Thank you,” she says begrudgingly.

“What’s your name?” Dean asks.

“Zoey.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Zoey. Can my brother and I come inside to meet the rest of your family?”

She squints at him, and it’s oddly reminiscent of Cas. “He’s your brother?”

Oops.

Dean looks back at Sam apologetically and then says to Zoey, “Yeah, he is. It’s kind of cold out here, can we please go inside?”

“ _May_ you. That’s what my teacher always says, ‘you mean _may_ you go inside.’”

Dean laughs out loud at that, and then he stands and cracks his knees before following the little girl into the house. Sam picks up the dog and sets her down when they get inside.

The house is loud and bustling, and a young woman drops a particularly large baby into Sam’s arms and says, “Hold Noah for a few minutes, would you?”

She walks away before Sam can properly answer. He looks down at the fussy child at a complete loss as to how to proceed. Noah can’t be older than four or five months.

“Here, give me,” Dean says as he takes the baby right out of Sam’s arms and bounces him against his shoulder. “You’re terrible with kids.”

“What are we even—”

“Who are you guys?” a girl probably in her late teens or early 20s says from a few feet away from them.

“We’re, um, the cops. Mrs. Casey invited—”

“Oh, Gramma invited you? Then you’re fine. How’d you end up with Noah?”

“Uh, a woman just—”

“My sister? Probably thought you were Josh.” The girl steps forward and takes Noah from Dean. “I’ll take care of him, you guys go introduce yourselves to everybody. Help in the kitchen or something. I’m Sara, by the way.”

“Sam. And he’s Dean. Nice to meet you, Sara.”

She smiles warmly at them before disappearing around the corner with the baby. A few more kids run past them and nearly run them over, but they manage to make it to the kitchen unscathed.

It’s so busy that soon enough Sam gets pushed out by Mrs. Casey, and she talks his ear off for the next 20 or so minutes. Sam keeps getting glimpses into the kitchen of Dean moving around people, laughing and talking and taste-testing everything he can reach. Other people seem to be doing the same, and Sam quickly realizes that Dean is perfect for this place.

Well, other than the fact that there’s no alcohol here. He finds out later from one of the younger adults that Mrs. Casey is very religious, so Dean will just have to deal with tea all day. Additionally, the more Sam talks to people the more convinced he is that pretty much every single person in this family has diabetes, but he’s almost certain Dean won’t notice the difference between real sugar and sugar substitutes.

Once the food is all ready and they head down to the basement to set everything up and get started, Dean is unapologetic about mooching off of these people.

He piles his plate with everything they’ve got—ham, turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, broccoli, the works—and takes a seat next to Sara’s dad, John. They get into a serious discussion about cars, so Sam turns his attention to the rest of the table. Throughout the meal, though, he keeps an eye on Dean and gives him a _look_ the fourth time he gets up to refill his plate.

But Dean just rolls his eyes and keeps right on eating, and Sam decides he’s probably just being paranoid because there are other people here who have eaten just as much if not more than Dean, and a couple of the older women keep asking Sam if he has enough and if they can get him anything else. Is this just how a normal Thanksgiving is?

The kids get rowdy after they’ve had dessert, and a couple people leave with crying babies. Zoey appears out of nowhere next to Sam and drags him away from the table to go play with the kids. He sees Sara sitting on the couch knitting and wishes he was doing _that_ instead. Looks relaxing.

Half an hour later he’s completely out of breath and feels like he needs to lie down for a while. The kids are getting sick of him anyway, so he sneaks back to the adults and finds that Dean is _just now_ getting dessert. Or maybe it’s not his first plate of dessert. Either way, his dumb brother is _still_ eating.

Sam saddles up next to him at the dessert table and whispers, “Are you fricking serious, Dean?”

“What?” he asks as he places a cupcake next to the two pieces of pie already on his plate.

“Do you plan on eating _all_ of their food or…?”

Dean smiles at Sam in that way that says _I’m going to kill you later._ “As a matter of fact, yes, I am. Mrs. Casey told me not to leave any leftovers.” He picks up a cookie and shoves the whole thing in his mouth. “C’mon, Sammy, how often do I get to eat like this?” he asks with his mouth full.

“Literally all the time, Dean.”

Dean swallows and burps before saying, “OK, yeah, but for _free.”_ He grins and smacks Sam on the arm before going to sit next to Sara on the couch. He starts asking about her knitting, and then a couple others join them. Sam can’t help but smile a little at how magnetic Dean can be. People just sort of…gravitate toward him.

Sam’s eating his first piece of pie when he hears Dean sigh from the couch and looks over to see him dropping his fork and placing a hand on his gut. He looks ready to burst, the buttons of his flannel barely holding him in. Just as Sam is thinking this, Dean subtly unbuttons his shirt and his stomach pushes out further into his lap. He slouches back on the couch so his belly doesn’t fold on itself.  

Sara’s mom, Jan, sees that Dean’s plate is empty and asks if he would like her to bring him some more. Sam can tell he’s about to decline, but then he looks longingly over at the dessert table and says, “Maybe just a slice of cheesecake? And a little of the peach cobbler. Thank you, ma’am.”

Unbelievable. His brother is unbelievable.

“What’s going on with _you?_ ”

Sam nearly jumps at the voice. He hadn’t realized Sara had moved to sit down next to him.

“Um, nothing. I just don’t want Dean eating all of your food.”

Sara laughs and shakes her head. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. Everybody usually goes home with a week’s worth of leftovers.”

“Don’t tell Dean that. We’ll end up leaving with everything.”

“So you guys are brothers?”

“Zoey tell you that?”

“Dean did, actually. I think he might be slipping into a food coma or something.”

Almost on cue, Dean gives him a signal, and Sam knows it’s time they leave. Probably because Dean’s going to be sick and doesn’t want to be sick _here._

“Um, excuse me, Sara, I think my brother might be ready to leave,” Sam says, standing.

“Oh, all right. It was—nice to meet you, Sam.”

Sara stands too, and on instinct Sam leans over and gives her a hug. “Thanks for everything.”

On their way out, they tell Mrs. Casey that they’ll be in touch about the case. It’s then that Sam realizes they didn’t learn a damn thing about the victims today.

He’s just about to say that to Dean as they’re walking to the Impala when Dean lets out a huge breath and the button of his jeans flies off.

“Seriously, dude?” Sam asks as Dean shuts his eyes and rubs his swollen stomach before getting in the passenger seat.

“You drive. I’m going to pass out.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Dean leans back in the seat and holds his belly in both his hands. It’s obscene.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Sammy,” he says sleepily.

Sam can’t help but smile at his stupid brother. “You too, Dean.”

 


	41. Cured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets cured of the Mark of Cain and finds that his appetite is insatiable.

Dean is starving.

He’s been insatiably hungry since the—since he woke up cured of the Mark of Cain.

His memory’s a little fuzzy on how they got rid of it, but he knows it was not nearly as cut-and-dry as it was for Cain to hand it over all those months ago. In any case, he’s just glad it’s gone.

He was apparently knocked out for three days, but when he woke up it had felt like years. The first thing he did was eat.

Sam tried to tell him that he needed to take it slow at first, that his body might immediately reject whatever he put in it, but he was _so goddamn hungry._

So he made Cas go get take-out (he didn’t want to ask Sam because he knew he would judge him and short change him on his order), and he sat in his bed eating burgers and fries until he felt sick. And then he ate more.

Sure, for a while he was eating a lot to try to prevent himself from killing people, but once he went dark side again he’s pretty sure he stopped eating entirely. It’s been two weeks now, and he’s already gained back the weight he lost while he had the Mark. Probably more actually. Not that he ever weighs himself to know exactly.

He wakes up one morning to an empty bunker and a note on the kitchen counter from Sam saying he and Cas are going to be on a quick hunt for a couple of days. He rolls his eyes and crumples it up. Eventually they’re going to have to let him hunt again. 

His stomach starts grumbling before he’s even poured his first cup of coffee. He drops a hand to it and that’s when he notices that the elastic of his boxers is digging painfully into his skin.

“Bastard,” he says before rummaging through the cabinets to find something to eat. He’s got to control himself today. When he really thinks about it, he’s been eating enough food for about two people every day, and if he’s not careful his appetite will just keep growing. His stomach whines before he can _really_ chase that line of thinking.

They’ve got half a box of Froot Loops, and Dean kids himself into pouring one bowl and then putting them back. Five minutes later, he’s pouring a second bowl. And then a third. And then the box is empty.

 _OK, that’s enough,_ he thinks as he opens his laptop and tries to distract himself. He manages to drink two cups of coffee before his hand finds its way back to his still hungry stomach, and he pinches at the soft layer of skin that's formed in the past two weeks.

Frustrated, he glares at the thing like he can will it to stop asking for food. But then he realizes something.

Sam and Cas aren’t home. He can…indulge for a day, and nobody would be the wiser.

Luckily with Dean’s appetite lately they’ve been keeping the bunker well stocked, and it doesn’t take him long to whip up some eggs, biscuits, pancakes and bacon. He makes a _reasonable_ amount of food—except for the biscuits which come in a pack of six and there’s really no option but to cook them all.

He gets nearly high off the smells and the promise that he’s about to eat as much as he damn well pleases. The bacon finishes cooking before everything else, so he absent-mindedly nibbles at it while he flips pancakes. That is until he reaches for the plate and his hand comes up empty. It was what? Ten pieces maybe? There’s still half a pack left, so Dean goes ahead and throws the rest in the pan.

When everything’s ready, Dean plops himself in front of the TV and digs in. He mentally pats himself on the back for being an excellent chef as he shovels eggs and pancakes into his mouth. They disappear sooner than he would like, so he tries to take his time with the biscuits by slathering each of them in jelly or butter or leftover eggs and bacon. In no time, all six of those are gone, too.

Dean’s first instinct is to immediately get up and go back to the kitchen to make more, but he decides he should probably wait a little to let his food settle and see if he actually _really_ is still hungry.

He makes it 10 minutes before his stomach grumbles again.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Fuck it. He’s got enough batter for eight more pancakes. He finds some sausage patties and cooks six of those to go along with the second batch of biscuits. Finishes off the carton of eggs, too. Makes five pieces of toast and munches on them while he waits for everything to cook. Subconsciously adjusts his boxers to sit lower on his waist so he can breathe easier.

He gets halfway through the pancakes before he legitimately starts to feel full. Setting his plate aside, he leans back on the couch and strokes his belly lazily for a few minutes while he finishes a fourth cup of coffee. Without even thinking, he reaches for the biscuits and eats three in a matter of minutes.

He’s full, yeah, but definitely not uncomfortably so. It’s more of a warm, heavy feeling concentrated right in his stomach, but his mind is still telling him to put more in there. So with fake reluctance he picks up his plate of pancakes, pours more syrup on than is absolutely necessary, and eats the remaining four with so much enthusiasm that he finds himself licking the plate when they’re gone.

It takes some effort to eat the rest of the sausage and egg biscuits, but now he’s determined so he manages to polish them all off. Even with four cups of caffeine in his system, his body is so exhausted from all the food crammed into it that he falls asleep on his back on the couch, one hand resting on his stuffed belly.

Unsurprisingly, he wakes up hungry. And frustrated that his stupid appetite won’t just chill for a second. Give him some peace.

It’s lunchtime, but he doesn’t feel like cooking again or putting on clothes and going out to a drive thru, so he sits around lazily stuffing his face with chips and salsa until the family-sized bag is empty. He’s desperate enough to keep being lazy that he plows his way through a bag of fucking baby carrots, which are basically like eating air but he dips them all in Sam’s hummus and that stuff is heavier than it looks.

His stomach growls at him even as he’s getting ready to lick the tub of hummus clean, and so he caves and goes to the kitchen to make a sandwich. Which ends up being three sandwiches. He eats all of the ham and turkey that was in the fridge, and now they’re out of bread, too.

Shit. Sam and Cas are going to come home and think they got robbed.

He can worry about that tomorrow, take a trip to the store or something.

Right now, though, there’s an unopened package of Double Stuf Oreos calling his name.

He pours himself a generous glass of milk and tries to take his time with the Oreos—ripping some of them apart and licking the cream, leaning forward in his chair to dip some of them in his milk. He eats a dozen before he runs out of milk and pours himself another glass without a second thought. By the time he’s eating the last three cookies, his stomach is finally starting to protest. He forces his hand under the waistband of his boxers and rubs back and forth until there’s some give in his stretched skin. God, it feels good. Briefly he wonders what it would be like to feel this good all the time. To be full and absolutely stuffed and—no, this is dangerous territory he’s getting in now. Maybe when he’s old and retired he can grow a proper belly like he secretly wants to, but for now he really should try to stay in some kind of shape.

He’s still craving more milk once all the cookies are gone, but there’s only a little left so he drinks it straight out of the jug with one hand resting on his stomach to feel the liquid go down. He wishes everything felt as good and heavy as milk, and suddenly he’s craving a milkshake and kicking himself for the empty jug in his hand.

Tomorrow. He’ll go to the store tomorrow.

Except they definitely have ice cream, and ice cream is halfway to a milkshake anyway. Dean rummages in the freezer until he finds a quart of chocolate. It’s only half full, so he figures he can just go ahead and eat the rest and buy more tomorrow.

He doesn’t even manage to sit down to eat it. He grabs a spoon and leans against the counter and eats so quickly that he gets a brain freeze.

His stomach makes a weak gurgling noise, and Dean looks down at it as if he can see all the chips, salsa, carrots, hummus, sandwiches, Oreos, milk and ice cream crammed in there. Not to mention the huge breakfast he had. When he goes to throw the ice cream carton away, it’s a little difficult to move.

 _Time to throw in the towel_ , he thinks as he heads toward the couch to channel surf.

“Unless…” He makes a 180 and opens the cabinet he knows is the right one.

Cookie butter. There’s about a third of a jar left, and this stuff goes down really smooth and easy. And he’s already got a spoon. Yeah, he can eat this no problem.

The word _fatass_ flashes through his mind as he scrapes the last bits of cookie butter out of the jar and licks his spoon clean. Before he started this day of binge eating, that word would have made him flush with shame. But now? Now it sounds like something he definitely wants to make a reality. 

An hour and a half of television later, his stomach growls at him again. It’s not even close to dinnertime yet, so he holds out for another half hour before he can’t take it anymore and heads back to the fridge.

This time he doesn’t even bother going back to sit on the couch or even a chair at the kitchen table. He just pulls things randomly out of the fridge and eats them right there as he searches for the next thing. He tries not to think about it too much because this disrespectful, lowly behavior is definitely not something Dean Winchester does with food. But desperate times. 

He’s squeezing chocolate syrup down his throat (regretting again that he ran out of milk to mix this with) when he spots a take-out box hiding in the back. There’s no note on it, and he nearly gasps when he opens it to find almost half an apple cake. He’d prefer apple pie of course, but at least he doesn’t have to walk the three feet to get a fork for this. He just starts shoveling it in with sticky fingers as he continues his scavenger hunt in the fridge. Maybe there’s pie hiding somewhere in here.

There’s not pie, and the cake only put a small dent in the bottomless pit of Dean’s stomach. He does, however, find a jar of pickles, a bag full of grapes, four pudding snack packs, a can of spray cheese (he has to begrudgingly move away from the fridge and find some crackers and pretzels for that), and a full tub of cool whip. The fridge is pretty much empty when he finally slumps to the floor and rucks up his t-shirt to rub soothing circles into his swollen belly.

That’s when he sees it. Up on the counter, no longer obscured from view from his position on the floor, is an unopened bag of Sweet Sixteen powdered donuts.

Well, if there was anything that would get his ass off the floor right now, it’s that. It takes him two tries and a lot of grunting and sliding before he finally hoists himself up, but once he does it’s totally worth it. He savors the first two donuts, eating them in small bites and letting the powder melt on his tongue around his satisfied moans. But then it’s game over after that, and by the time he’s at the bottom of the bag he’s eating them two at a time. After he swallows the last bite and wipes his mouth clean of the powder, he realizes how sticky and dry the roof of his mouth and tongue feel, so he rummages in the door of the fridge until he finds a liter of coke. He’s way past the point of dignity now and drinks straight from the bottle instead of pouring it into a glass and pretending like he’s only going to drink a few ounces. 

He heads back to the couch with his coke and finishes it within the next 10 or so minutes. He burps when he’s done, and his stomach lurches and settles back into place angrily. He looks down at himself for the first time in a couple hours, and he’s not even a little bit surprised to see that his shirt is riding up over the lower curve of his belly. And since when does he even have a lower curve? It’s pushing out over his boxers and has bent the elastic back on itself. Dean readjusts his position, and his belly sloshes and protests. The thing is so goddamn heavy. It feels…awesome.

He leans back on the couch and grabs his stomach in both of his hands and starts daydreaming about what it would feel like if someone else’s hands were on him right now. Rubbing soothing circles into his strained skin. Kissing his bloated belly, worshiping it, praising him for how much he’s been able to fit in there today and encouraging him to make it grow even bigger…

“Shit.” It’s not the first time Dean’s gotten turned on by food, but he definitely doesn’t have it in him to eat more while he jerks off. So instead he goes to the shower and spends a liberal amount of time washing and caring for his belly.

And if he jerks off in the shower with one hand on his dick and the other on the swell of his stomach, well, nobody needs to know that.

Dinner is a mess. Dean really should’ve thought through a game plan before he decided to eat everything in the house today. Because now there’s not really much left in the way of making a meal, so he’ll have to make do with a frozen pizza and a box of macaroni and cheese.

OK, two boxes of macaroni and cheese. 

He barely even sets his last bowl down before he’s back in the kitchen looking for something else. It’s a great victory when he opens a cabinet to reveal all of their canned foods. He forgot about this stock.

Two cans of Spaghettios, a bowl of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup, and three cans of Vienna sausage (he really has stooped as low as possible) later, the elastic of Dean’s boxers is stretched as far as it’ll go, and his stomach is hanging low and heavy over it.

Hopefully there’s something in the way of dessert still left, considering he already ate the Oreos, ice cream, cookie butter, chocolate syrup, pudding, donuts and apple cake.

Sure enough, there’s two bags of Milanos and a stash of Hershey’s chocolate bars hiding behind a bunch of healthy crap. Dean goes ahead and eats all of it.

Yeah, he’s going to have to go to the store first thing in the morning.

It’s about 9 p.m. when Dean decides he should stop eating for the evening in order to let his body digest everything he’s put in it today. So it’s actually not even unnerving when he wakes up at 3 a.m. with a grumbling stomach.

Usually he would just try to roll over and go back to sleep, but the thing is persistent, so he heads to the kitchen sleepily and leans over the counter as he dips pretzels into cream cheese (god, is he pregnant or something?) until he runs out of cream cheese and finishes the pretzels dry.

When he wakes up four hours later to an empty stomach, his heart rate increases a little as he looks down at himself to find that his stomach still looks, well, huge. But it’s completely empty. That can’t be right. He couldn’t have gained weight in a single day, could he?

Whatever. He’s too hungry to worry about this right now, and there’s pretty much no food left in the bunker so he’s going to have to survive on coffee until he can get to the store.

The first pair of jeans he tries on sits so tight under his belly that they make him look even bigger than he already is. Fantastic. He manages to find an old pair that's stretched wide from years of wear. They still hug his hips a little, but it’s not too uncomfortable.

He doesn’t make it to the store before he’s pulling into a McDonald’s and ordering four steak, egg and cheese biscuits, three orders of hash browns and a sausage burrito. He’s still hungry by the time he gets to the store, so he stops by the Starbucks right next door and grabs two muffins, a brownie and a venti mocha. Plus, he purposely went to the Harris Teeter with all the samples. And those fucking awesome cookies that the dinosaur says are only for kids.

It’s nearly lunchtime by the time he’s leaving the store with $300 worth of food, so he stops by a diner and grabs a few burgers and fries to go and tells himself he’s not going to start eating until he gets home (he makes it out of the parking lot before he opens the first bag).

He opens and tries pretty much every single thing he bought as he puts the groceries away, and now he can finally make that milkshake he wanted yesterday. 

For the next hour, he munches on burgers and fries in between sucking down three milkshakes (a quart of ice cream total). He has to unbutton his jeans after the third burger, and he unbuttons his flannel after the fourth.

He’s almost too tired to move when he’s done, but not too tired for the cherry pie he bought. He makes it through two and a half pieces before he passes out on the couch with the fork halfway to his mouth, his other hand resting under the hem of his t-shirt.

He dreams about steak and homemade pie and endless buffets, and he dreams about lying back and having someone feed him until he can’t move and then feeding him more. He dreams about warm hands caressing his swollen—

There’s a warm hand on his stomach that’s not his, and he jolts awake, knocking the plate of pie off his chest.

“Jesus, Cas, what the hell?” he asks as he props himself up on his elbows. Too much effort to sit all the way up.

“Your stomach looks angry with you,” Cas says seriously while palming Dean’s skin.

Dean should swat his hand away and tell him to mind his own business, but…it feels really nice. “What, are you communicating with it or something?”

“Dean, how much have you eaten today?”

Not like he can lie, what with all of the evidence lying around him. Not to mention the evidence of his belly that’s about twice the size as it was two days ago. “A little.”

Cas just laughs, the bastard. “I’m going to clean all of this up before Sam comes in. You might want to hide somewhere until your stomach, um, returns to normal si—”

“Did a bear break in here?” Sam interrupts from where he’s got his arms crossed in the living room. “That can’t be my brother.” He points skeptically at Dean.

Cas removes his hand from Dean’s stomach, and Dean squirms to try to adjust his t-shirt as if that’s going to hide how huge he is right now.

“I got, um, hungry?” Dean says lamely.

Sam just rolls his eyes. “You’re never allowed to stay home alone again.”


	42. Free Pizza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dean the chubby bachelor is sitting at home one Friday night when he decides to order pizza. Lots of pizza. And breadsticks. And when the hot young single and mildy chubby pizza delivery man shows up at Dean's place, it would only be right for Dean to invite this man in (spoiler: his name is Cas) to eat every single piece of pizza and breadstick with him.

It’s frustrating being in a new city with a new job and not knowing a single person in town other than that creepy guy in the condo next door. Sure, Dean’s not opposed to sitting home alone on a Friday night watching old Clint Eastwood movies—god knows he didn’t feel guilty about it in college—but he could really use some company right now.

Or maybe he’s just hungry. He heaves a sigh and scratches his empty stomach, calculates the time it should take for the pizza guy to get here already. The last thing he ate was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as a snack like two hours ago, and this beer is really not doing much to fill him up. He rubs his hand up under his t-shirt and pinches his skin a little. He stopped calling himself “chubby” during his senior year of college and decided to man up and admit that he’s fat now. It’s really not a big deal. Yeah, the doctor says he should watch his weight, but his blood pressure is surprisingly good and he can still bench 290 (which is 30 pounds more than he weighs, thank you very much). His stomach makes a sad gurgling noise in hunger.

Finally, there’s a knock on his door, and Dean all but skips to get it. God, he’s a cliche.

"Good evening. I have a large thick crust meat lover’s pizza, a side of breadsticks and another side of cinnamon sticks with extra icing?"

Dean laughs and scratches the back of his neck subconsciously before taking the food from the guy. They never read out the order like that. “Uh, yeah. Thanks, man.”

"It’s my pleasure. Hosting a party?"

Dean’s so excited about the pizza that he stupidly says, “Nope. It’s just for me. I mean, I, uh—”

But the guy just cuts him off with a soft laugh. “It’s OK. I ate a large pizza in half an hour just three days ago.”

That’s not what he expected to hear, and he can’t help his eyes from roaming over the guy. His red polo is tight against his belly and is tucked into khaki pants that are probably a size or two too small. He’s not nearly as big as Dean, but he’s definitely sporting a pretty solid muffin top.

"Um. Is there anything else I can do for you…?"

"Oh! Right, um, sorry. Here." Dean shoves some cash at his chest. "Uh, keep the change. And thanks."

"Thank you. Enjoy your pizza and breadsticks. And cinnamon sticks."

The guy turns to leave, and Dean gets a nice view of the way his ass fills out his pants. On impulse, Dean calls, “Hey! What’s your name?”

He turns and tilts his head as he answers, “Cas.”

"Do you, uh—when do you get off work?"

Cas turns to look at his car and then turns back to Dean. “You were my last stop.”

"Do you want to, um, you know—this is a lot of food, and I…"

Cas grins and walks back up to the front door. “You sure you have enough for the both of us?”

Dean ducks his chin to hide his blush. “No, but…”

Cas pushes his way past him and makes himself at home on Dean’s couch, even going so far as to grab the remote and press play before Dean has even closed the door. This guy apparently doesn’t know boundaries.

"Beer?" Dean calls from the kitchen as he gets plates and napkins.

"Yeah. What’s your name, by the way?"

"Dean."

"It’s nice to meet you, Dean."

It’s awkward when Dean comes into the living room and tries to decide where to sit in relation to Cas. However, he doesn’t really have a lot of time to think about it before Cas scoots over and grabs the pizza box out of his hand and sets it on the couch cushion between them. He doesn’t even bother with a plate or napkins and decides instead to shove half a piece in his mouth at once.

"Been at work since 2. The smell’s been driving me nuts all day," he explains with his mouth full.

Dean just shrugs and piles three pieces on his plate.

They spend the next few minutes eating their pizza in silence, and before they know it the box is empty.

"Damn it," Dean announces as he shoves the last bit of crust in his mouth.

"There’s still breadsticks," Cas says confidently, reaching for the coffee table to grab said breadsticks.

They plow through those, too, and then suddenly the cinnamon sticks are gone, too, and Dean’s licking the leftover icing off his finger and really wishing he hadn’t shared his food because his stomach is nowhere near full enough yet.

Cas sets all the empty boxes on the coffee table and sits back with a groan. “You didn’t order enough.”

"Oh well _excuse me,_ I didn’t realize I would have company.”

Cas laughs, and Dean is mesmerized with the way his stomach shakes. “It would be disgraceful if we ordered more pizza from the place of my employment.”

"It would be disgraceful if neither of us gets more food in our stomachs tonight." It takes two tries for Dean to get up off the couch.

"Where are you going?"

"Geez, relax. I’m seeing what I have in the kitchen."

Cas ends up joining him at the fridge, and they stand around talking and snacking on chips and ice cream and fucking Nature Valley bars until the button of Cas’ pants flies off while he’s finishing a can of Pringles.

"Well, that was bound to happen eventually," Cas says in resignation.

"Damn, I was looking forward to doing that myself." Shit. What did he just say.

But Cas just squints and steps foward until he’s in Dean’s personal space. Then he reaches under Dean’s belly and finds his belt buckle without breaking eye contact. Dean tries not to squirm, but then he forgets everything when Cas undoes his pants because his gut drops free and it feels fucking _awesome._

"Fuller than you thought you were, huh?" Cas asks, digging his fingers into Dean’s fat. There’s surprisingly a lot of give in his skin despite the fact that he’s beyond full, and that really just emphasizes how big he’s gotten lately.

"Mm-hmm." Dean closes his eyes and reaches for Cas’ waist. He pulls him forward until their stomachs bump.

"So are we going to kiss or—"

Dean shuts Cas up by pulling his face to his for a sloppy kiss. 

"Stay over. I’ll make breakfast."

"You’re getting free pizza from now on."


	43. When they were 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Chubby!kid!Dean and chubby!kid!Cas at school.

It started when they were 10.

Dean didn’t have a lot of friends, but he didn’t care. He liked sitting with Jo and Ash at an eight-person table at lunch every day. That’s how it had always been, since they were 6. 

It started when they were 10. Fifth grade. Dean had noticed Castiel Novak before, they had been in the same second grade class, but something happened in between fourth and fifth grade. Castiel had gotten fat.

Wait, that’s not a nice term—Cas had just, well, he had gained a little weight. That’s all. He was about as big as Dean now, and according to his little brother, Dean wasn’t allowed to call himself fat. So that means he shouldn’t say it about Cas either.

It started when they were 10. Cas still sat with his huge group of friends—the “popular” kids—at lunch, but something was wrong. He wasn’t eating much. Dean doesn’t know why he even noticed, but since he did he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Cas looked starving and miserable, but he barely ate more than half a sandwich every day. After watching this for two weeks, Dean decided to do something about it. He started packing extra food in his lunchbox every day, and as they waited for the bus after school Dean would offer the food to Cas like he was just sharing his snack.

Castiel always ate whatever Dean gave him, quickly and desperately.

One day, Dean starts talking to Cas. Not really about anything in particular, but that’s how it starts. They talk every day at the bus stop, and it becomes the best part of Dean’s day.

When they’re 11, Dean invites Cas over to his apartment to watch Godzilla movies and sleep over.

"Holy cow, you have _cinnamon toast crunch,”_ Cas says as soon as he walks in. He had immediately gone to the pantry.

"Um, yeah," Dean says with a laugh. "You don’t have cereal at your house?"

"Yeah, but not sugary cereal." Cas keeps looking at all the food. "You have Oreos. And chips. You eat all of this stuff?"

Dean crosses his arms over his chest self-consciously. _Duh,_ he eats all of this stuff. According to his dad, that’s why he’s fat in the first place. “Yep.”

Cas’ face falls. “My parents don’t let me eat _anything.”_

"What? Are you serious?"

Cas scratches his belly and keeps staring at all the food. “They lock up all the ‘bad’ stuff and only let my sister have any of it. They did that after I…you know.”

"Because you got—gained weight?"

"Yes. What are your parents like?" Cas looks around the room as if he’s just now noticed that there are no parents here.

"My dad’s never here. I take care of my brother and pretty much do whatever I want." Dean doesn’t want to talk about his mom.

Cas’ eyes go wide. “So…we can do anything?”

"Anything" to Cas means eating everything in the Winchesters’ apartment. They sit on Dean’s bed, put on a movie, and surround themselves with snacks until they run out and have to go back to the kitchen for more. Sam joins them, too, but he gets a stomach ache long before they’re ready to quit. Dean’s never eaten so much sugar in his life. It feels awesome.

Things change after that. Cas starts coming over every weekend, and he and Dean go all over the place trying every type of bad food imaginable. They get candy apples at the mall, corn dogs at the stand down the street, burritos at the Mexican place in town. They eat like kings, because it might be the only good meal Cas gets for a while.

When they’re 12, Dean begins to wonder if Cas is only friends with him for the food. It hurts to think that might be the case, but Dean won’t let his friend starve. Besides, Cas is the happiest when he’s got a mouthful of food. Nothing makes Dean happier than seeing Cas happy.

When they’re 13, they start getting picked on at school. Sam still tells Dean not to call himself fat, but that doesn’t stop all the kids at school from saying it. It makes Dean overeat _all_ the time, and the one time he goes to the doctor the words “childhood obesity” are thrown around. Cas is bigger than him now. It’s not as happy anymore when they go on their food excursions every weekend.

When they’re 14, they both hit puberty and lose a combined 65 pounds.

While they’re sitting on Dean’s bed sharing a carton of ice cream one Friday night, Cas drops his spoon, leans over and gives Dean a cold, chocolatey kiss.

They start getting picked on for something completely different, something awesome. Dean never wonders again if Cas just likes him for his food.

 


	44. Pie Day(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dean making pie after pie trying to replicate his mom's recipe and having chubby!Cas help him get through all the ones that weren't right. And Cas is just happy to help his friend while filling his belly with pie-y goodness

Day 1.

Dean wakes up in the literal middle of the night with the sudden realization that he remembers exactly what his mom’s cherry pie tasted like when he was but 4 years old.

He even helped her make it once or twice. “Helped” being a loose term meaning he ate a lot of sugar and cherries and played with the pie crust.

But if he could figure out that recipe…

Day 2.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Dude, you’ve made like…six pies in the past 24 hours. Seriously, what’s going on?”

 _“Nothing_ , Sammy.”

“Are you possessed? Are you possessed by a pie ghost? Do I need to go do research on obsessive pie making? Should I call Cas?”

Dean turns a sour look on his brother until Sam raises his arms in surrender and backs out of the kitchen. 

Day 3.

It’s around the fourth failed pie of the day that Dean realizes how full his stomach is. Yeah, OK, sure he hasn’t been eating _every_ pie he makes, but he definitely hasn’t been, like…letting them go to waste either. Just because they aren’t the _right_ pie doesn’t mean they should be thrown away.

So while Dean bakes, he samples. And samples. And samples some more. When he’s not baking or sampling, he’s usually making himself a sandwich for lunch, which is inevitably followed by a slice or two of pie. Or maybe a whole pie. Who’s keeping track, _really._ In any case, there are still a dozen or so pies that haven’t been eaten. The fridge is getting as full as Dean feels.

Yeah, it’s been three days since Dean’s stomach was anywhere near the vicinity of empty. 

Day 4.

Dean begs Sam to eat more of the pie before they drown in it. Sam laughs at him for digging his own grave, but he takes half a pie to his room anyway.

That night, Cas shows up.

“Sam said there was a very urgent—are you baking?”

Dean slams his oven mitts on the counter (not nearly as dramatic as he hoped it would be) and glares at Cas. “Goddamn it, I’m going to kill Sammy.”

Cas does the squinty eyes at the pies sitting on the counter before taking a seat and pulling one of the tins to him. He then looks up at Dean and asks very seriously, “Do you have a fork?”

They have a silent staring match before Dean breaks with a sigh and tosses a fork over. 

He resumes his place at the opposite counter before saying, “I’m just trying to make—make a perfect pie is all.” He thinks about adding that as soon as they find a case, he’ll stop, but then he realizes that he hasn’t even looked for a case since this whole pie fiasco started.

“It tastes perfect to me,” Cas says, and his voice is all muffled on account of his mouth being stuffed with pie.

Dean shrugs off the comment, and then less than a minute later he hears Cas move around a bit and there’s the sound of pie tins sliding and being opened, so Dean turns around and unbelievably finds Cas digging into a _second_ pie with more enthusiasm than Dean’s seen Cas do literally anything else.

“Dude, the fuck?” Dean asks dumbly.

Cas just looks up with wide eyes and chubby cheeks. “You want to get rid of them, right?” he asks, again with his mouth full.

“Are you—I mean, most people don’t just eat a whole pie in two minutes, man.”

Cas shrugs and continues shoveling pie in his mouth. “It’s really good pie, Dean.”

“Yeah, but you’re—you’re not an angel anymore. How are you not full already?”

Another shrug.

Dean doesn’t even bother saying anything when Cas motors through a third pie as quickly as the first two.

Day 10.

“Case in Utah. Coming or not?”

“Uh, yeah, um, let me just—”

“Go ahead, finish your pie. Cas, you coming with us, too?”

Cas swallows and answers, “No, there’s still a lot of pie to catch up on. I’ll be fine here. Unless you want…”

“No, no, please. Don’t let me interrupt your very serious pie eating,” Sam teases.

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas answers seriously, mouth (as usual) full of pie.

Sam looks at Dean, but Dean just shrugs and smiles at Cas.

Day 19.

Dean is pulling his final pie of the day out of the oven when he hears a distinct moan and a small _tink_ behind him.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to prepare himself for what he’s inevitably about to see. And yep, when he turns around, sure enough Cas is leaning back in his chair obscenely running a hand across his lower belly that has not only busted the button on his slacks, but also the bottom button on his dress shirt as well. The dress shirt that Dean could’ve sworn swallowed him whole not even a month ago. Cas looks absolutely debauched. Amazingly but not surprisingly, he is still shoving pie in his face.

“Uh, Cas?” Dean starts as he wipes the flour off his apron and takes a seat.

“Yes, Dean?” Cas asks, momentarily turning his attention away from his pie.

“Just, um, curious—exactly _how many_ pies have you been eating every day?”

Cas raises his eyebrows and takes a deep breath, which just pushes his protruding belly out even further. “Let’s see, you were making about seven per day, but then you slowed down to about five, and at first I was only eating three, so there were several leftover, and…” he mumbles to himself until finally, “Probably six, maybe seven per day.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “You know, Cas, you know that’s not exactly, um, healthy?”

Cas makes a completely out of character patronizing face at Dean, then he looks down at his own stomach and back at Dean and says, “Obviously” while he grabs handfuls of his gut to demonstrate.

“Oh, so you—you don’t care then?”

Cas leans forward in his chair, which pops the next button up on his shirt, and finishes off the pie he was eating before this conversation. “I’m not too concerned about it, no.”

Day 27.

In all of the time he’s been spending watching Cas’ waistline grow seemingly by the minute, Dean has failed to recognize his own bodily changes during this experiment. Which is why he’s incredibly embarrassed when he can’t get his most reliable pair of jeans to button in the morning.

When he comes into the kitchen in his pajama pants and a t-shirt that’s hugging him tighter than he remembers, Cas laughs from where he’s sprawled out on the couch drinking coffee.

“What?” Dean asks defensively.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who can’t fit into anything besides your pajamas.”

“Laugh it up, asshole, at least my shirt doesn’t look like a crop top.”

Cas stretches out and arches his back in response, making his shirt (Dean’s shirt) ride up above his belly button. Dean doesn’t even pretend not to stare at the soft paunch that’s covered in tiny, white stretch marks. Maybe he thinks Cas looks cute like this. Maybe Cas knows and purposely does things to show off his growing pie belly. Shut up.

Dean is making his own pot of coffee when he hears footsteps and suddenly feels a hand squeezing his love handle.

“Dude, what the fuck?” he asks with a small jump.

Cas smiles stupidly at him. “Your stomach is empty. You should fill it up.”

Dean rolls his eyes and turns so he can pat Cas’ belly a few times. “Same to you, tubby.”

Day 30.

By some unspoken agreement, Cas and Dean both eat more pie than they have on any previous day. They turn on some nonsense reality TV show and sit slouched back on the couch holding their bellies in pain. After several minutes, Dean can’t stand Cas’ whines anymore and reaches across the small space between them to give the angel a belly rub. His skin is incredibly taut and warm, but it gives beneath Dean’s fingers like magic, and the moans Cas makes…

Day 32.

He does it.

He makes the perfect pie.

His mom’s pie.

Cas is halfway through his third of the day when Dean pulls the tin out of his hand and announces, “This one’s it. We have to eat it together.”

They eat in silence, much slower than they’ve eaten anything in the past month. Cas makes faces like he’s in heaven, and he keeps rubbing his belly like he can feel the pie in there. Dean is nearly crying at the fact that he _finally_ did it. It’s almost reverent. 

When they’re done, they drop their forks and lean back in their chairs and just look at each other for a while. It’s so rare these days to see Cas when he’s not chewing that Dean hardly noticed how chubby his cheeks have gotten. Under his chin, too, he’s definitely lost any jawline he might’ve had before. By Dean’s assessment, Cas has probably gained 30, maybe even 40 pounds since this whole thing started. He looks amazing.

“It was my mom’s recipe.”

“I know.”

“What? I didn’t tell anybo—”

“You didn’t have to.”

They stare at each other with stupid smiles on their faces for a long, long time before Dean stands and moves over to Cas and…

Day 40.

“Wake up, fatasses, we got a case.”

Dean groans and rolls over in bed. He slings his arm over Cas and scoots himself up behind him so he can kiss his neck.

“We can lie and say you’re not in good enough shape,” Dean whispers between kisses.

“We both know that’s not true.”

Dean tightens his grip on Cas’ belly and grabs at his fat in a slow rhythm. “I don’t know, you sure you’re still in fighting shape?”

“Now that I have new clothes, yes. Are you going to get off me and let me get up?”

“No.” 

Cas groans and arches his back so he can push his belly further into Dean’s hand. As much as Cas complains, Dean knows he loves the attention. And he _really_ loves belly rubs, even when he’s not full.

“Dean.”

“Hmm?”

Cas takes a deep breath and pushes his ass back into Dean’s crotch. “Never mind.”

 


	45. dininghalldean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: College AU where chubby!Dean runs an Instagram about the food he eats at the dining halls on campus.

**dininghalldean** do u guys think i can finish this in five minutes before i have to go to class

Cas taps the picture twice on instinct. Whenever dininghalldean shows up on his feed he hits _like_ whether he actually really likes the picture or not. Not that Dean would ever notice that cas_novak likes every single photo he posts anyway, what with his 15,000 followers and hundreds of comments on everything he posts. 

Dean’s one of the most popular guys on campus, and there are all kinds of rumors about him. The dining halls give him free food. One day he popped a button on his pants right in the middle of lunch. Another time he stayed in the dining hall for 12 hours straight, and then another time he accidentally stayed past closing and ended up sleeping in the kitchen. Cas has no idea if any of these stories are true, especially considering that nobody seems to know exactly what Dean even looks like. He posts pictures of his body, sure, but the most of his face he’s shown is his growing double chin under a pretty impressive set of lips. 

“Are you on Instagram?”

“No.” Cas hits the button on the top of his phone to turn his screen black.

“You do realize you only ever say ‘no’ when you’re ogling that chubby kid, right?”

Cas glares at Meg and doesn’t respond.

Meg shrugs and steals a fry off Cas’ plate. “I don’t understand why you try to be all discreet about being a chubby chaser.”

“I am not a—“

“Yeah, yeah, so you’re a ‘feeder’ or whatever. You think you’d recognize dininghalldean if you saw him in person?”

Cas blushes and stares down at his plate.

"You’re gross.”

*****

Dean shoves the last pizza crust in his mouth and slides down the couch until he’s lying on his back. He opens his book and holds it in one hand so he can rub his belly with his other. A large pizza’s nothing, really, but the five cans of Mountain Dew were probably a little too much.

“Dude, did you finish that _entire_ pizza?”

“Yeah, bitch, you got a problem with it?”

Sam shakes his head and scoffs at Dean. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yep.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be the freshman 15? What are you up to now? Freshman 45? 50?”

Dean squirms deliberately and keeps his eyes glued to his book. “Sixty-two, thanks for noticing.”

It’s spring break, and Dean is excited to be home with his brother. Despite Sam’s whining, Dean knows he actually couldn’t give a shit that there is considerably more of Dean since the last break (and Sam freaked out enough as it is after just the first 20 pounds). He even helps him run his stupid Instagram account, filtering through the comments and checking what the people want to see more or less of (“Dean, all of these people are begging for a video of you eating”).

This all happened on accident anyway. Dean was an athlete in high school, but he was lazy as fuck and knew he wouldn’t be exercising _at all_ when he got to college. Then there was the unlimited meal plan for any of the dining halls on campus, and during week two of class Dean _might’ve_ stumbled upon the “secret” athletic dining hall where all the good shit’s at.

He started his Instagram account in late August as a joke. He had gained 15 pounds and 1,000 followers by Labor Day. There are betting pools on what he’s going to eat every day or what he’s going to try next. The first time he posted a before and after side-by-side comparison of his stomach was the day he realized that he’s unintentionally attracting some people with a fetish or two. (Now he posts belly pictures weekly. Those always get the most likes and comments, along with the pictures of the clothes he’s outgrown.)

It’s not that Dean is, like, doing this for the _attention_ or anything. Sure, it’s nice that literally thousands of people are telling him to stuff his face and get bigger, but frankly Dean doesn’t really give a fuck. He just likes food, and he knows he’s just as attractive now (if not more so) than he was in high school. Sixty-two pounds isn’t really even saying that much when he started at 160 anyway. He can keep this up for a while before he needs to…slow down or whatever. He’s young. He’s resilient. He’s allowed to be unhealthy for a while. Yeah.

An hour after Sam goes to bed, Dean sneaks into the kitchen and eats three slices of pie. It’s hard to fall asleep these days if his stomach isn’t packed tight. 

*****

Cas doesn’t really enjoy parties all that much, but Meg promised free drinks and free weed, so Cas thought what the hell.

He doesn’t know anybody in this house, but he’s high and a little tipsy so it doesn’t really matter. He listens to a girl talk about her religious studies class for a solid 10 minutes before she’s dragged onto the makeshift dance floor in the living room, and he gets into a heated discussion with the guys he bummed a cigarette off of outside. While he’s standing in line at the bathroom, he pulls out his phone and checks Instagram because that’s just what he does when he’s alone and uncomfortable in public.

He scrolls through a load of nonsense while the line moves slowly, and then just as he’s going into the bathroom he refreshes his feed and finds a picture of himself.

He momentarily panics, wondering how the hell he accidentally posted a picture. But then he realizes that the picture is of him, right now, standing against the wall, looking at his phone.

 **dininghalldean** guess what i’m having for dessert tonight

*****

“Dean, are you OK? Maybe you should slow down a little.”

“Hey. Hey, Jo. Do you—hic—do you know that guy over there?”

“That’s Meg’s friend. Dean, seriously, you should—”

“What’s his name? Can you introduce us? He’s so fucking hot, dude.”

“Dean. Dean! What are you doing! Don’t—give me your phone—oh my god—you fucking—”

*****

Bathroom forgotten, Cas’ eyes dart around the room in search of the stupid chubby moron who’s been ruining his life for the past seven months and who apparently thinks it’s cool to post pictures of strangers to his 15,000 followers.

Even if a girl wasn’t wrestling an extremely drunk and attractive kid for his phone, Cas would recognize that paunch anywhere. He’s only been staring at it and watching it grow since September, so yeah, he’s pretty familiar with it. If he wasn’t so pissed, he would be shaking with nerves. That’s Dean. In the flesh. Less than 10 feet away. He’s even bigger in person, and _goddamn_ , that face. He would probably have 25,000 followers by next week if he started posting pictures of that gorgeous chubby face.

“Hey. Delete that picture, asshole,” are not the first words Cas ever fantasized saying to Dean upon meeting him, but whatever.

Dean and the girl freeze and stare at Cas. Dean starts to blush furiously before tapping on his phone. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Shit. I don’t know what I was—”

“Were you serious?” Cas interrupts.

“Hmm?”

“About having me for dessert?”

The girl slowly backs away and out of sight.

Dean shoves his phone in his pocket and rubs the back of his neck. “Um, I, uh…”

Would you look at that. The great dininghalldean, nervous and shy when confronted by a boy he thinks is cute. 

“I’m Cas.”

Dean’s head pops up, his eyes wide. “I’m—I’m Dean.”

“I figured. I don’t know if you know this, but you’re a bit famous.” Cas glances down at Dean’s stomach and points at it as he continues, “Well, at least _that_ is.”

Just as bashful as before, Dean wraps a protective arm around his protruding belly and mumbles, “I think you’re really hot.”

Cas sighs and pulls out his phone. “What’s your number? I’ll call you when you’re sober.”

*****

“You know a significant part of your audience, if not the majority, are feeders with fetishes for watching people eat and gain weight, right? You’re aware of that?”

Dean shrugs and pops three chocolate-covered almonds in his mouth. “I know.”

“And you don’t feel…objectified?”

“I mean, it’s not like people can help what they like. I knew a guy once who could do crazy stuff with his feet, and one time he posted a video on YouTube and _bam_ , foot fetish people flocked to him like sheep.” Dean leans back in his chair and pats his belly, yanks the hem of his t-shirt as if it’s capable of stretching over the lower roll of his stomach. “Who am I to judge if people get off watching me pork out?”

Cas is quiet as he takes a few of the almonds.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“If you’re one of those people…” Dean leans forward so he’s inches from Cas’ face. “I’d see it as more of an advantage to our sex life than a flaw in your character.”

Dean may or may not go to bed that night with a full belly and a mouth on his cock.


	46. Un-Omega Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Omega verse with chubby!omega!Dean and alpha!Cas. Basically Dean gains a bunch of weight and gets pregnant.

“How is that shirt even remotely comfortable?”

“It’s not. Scoot over.”

Instead of moving, Cas just yanks Dean down onto the bed next to him and picks at the tight hem of the shirt sleeve. “Isn’t this cutting into your skin?”

“Yep.” Dean rolls over so he can pull Cas’ face against his chest. “I’ve been wearing your t-shirts to bed for two years, baby. Not going to stop now just because they don’t fit anymore.”

“To be fair, they’ve _never_ fit, but…” Cas slips a hand to Dean’s hip and moves along the curve of his belly that the shirt couldn’t cover even if it tried. Just to make a point, Cas tugs the hem down fruitlessly.

Dean shifts, and his belly jiggles against Cas’ hand. “You haven’t done _that_ since I was pregnant with A.J.”

“You haven’t been this—this—”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘fat,’ Cas.”

Cas takes his eyes away from Dean’s stomach and finds a smile on his face. He leans forward and kisses him, trying not to focus too much on the way Dean’s bare skin squishes against his t-shirt. “Yeah. Fat. Nobody’s giving you a hard time at work, are they?”

“I’m an omega with the scent of a scary possessive alpha on my clothes—trust me, nobody’s going to say a word if I look more pregnant than I did when I was actually pregnant.” Dean kisses Cas’ forehead. “Go to sleep, alpha.”

 *****

“Sesame chicken, yeah. Two orders of chicken fried rice, four spring rolls—the vegetable ones, yeah. And, uh, an order of wontons, and a spicy tuna roll, please. Yep. Yeah, that’s it.”

Cas sets his briefcase down and goes to give Dean a kiss where he’s sprawled out on the couch with A.J. asleep on his chest. When Dean hangs up the phone, Cas asks, “Didn’t feel like cooking tonight?”

“Nah. I got you chicken and broccoli with a side of rice.”

“Thanks. Does that mean—was the rest of that for you?”

“Yep.”

Cas barely gets halfway through his food on account of staring at Dean shoveling chicken and rice and sushi and spring rolls and wontons in his mouth like he hasn’t eaten in days. Sure, Dean’s always been an enthusiastic eater, but this is…

This is something else.

***** 

Every Thursday, Cas comes home to find Dean asleep on the couch with his pants unbuttoned and an empty pizza box on the coffee table. A large pizza. He claims it’s his “afternoon snack.”

Dean starts to bake. Every day. Cookies and brownies and cupcakes and especially pie. Cas has to grab his share first if he ever expects to eat any of it. The rest goes straight to Dean’s waistline. Every day.

One Sunday afternoon while they’re watching football, Cas counts as Dean eats wing after wing until he’s had 37 of them. He’s reaching for his 38th when the bottom two buttons on his shirt pop off. He looks down and unsnaps the rest before scooting further down in his seat so his belly isn’t slicing into his jeans too much. He eats eight more before the button on his pants gives up, too. Cas just stares.

The day Cas wakes up in the middle of the night to an empty bed, he pads out into the main room to find his husband sitting at the kitchen counter eating ice cream straight out of the carton.

“Are you going into heat soon?” Cas asks as he rubs sleep out of his eyes.

“I don’t think so, why?”

Cas shrugs. “Your eating habits are generally only this strange when you’re in heat.”

Dean smiles and sits up on the stool so he can fit a hand to his belly. “Nah, just extra hungry lately.” He continues to eat ice cream. “I’m not too worried about it.”

Cas walks over to him, wraps his arms around his shoulders and kisses his ear. “If you say so. Just come back to bed soon. Can’t sleep without you.”

The bed creaks a little more than usual when Dean slips in next to Cas 10 minutes later.

*****

As luck would have it, Dean goes into heat less than a month later.

They’ve always had a deeper connection than is totally normal between alphas and omegas, so Cas knows to leave work early and haul ass home before Dean even sends him the text about it. He can feel his rut start as he pulls into the driveway, and the door isn’t even shut behind him before Dean pushes him up against it and attacks his mouth.

Cas thanks his lucky stars that he’s an alpha or else there’s no way he would be able to lift Dean and carry him all the way to their bed. “You gain any more weight, I’m not going to be able to do this,” Cas mumbles against Dean’s mouth as they stumble through the door to their room.

“So? I’ll just carry you instead. Not too concerned about it right now—can’t imagine why.”

Cas growls and throws Dean onto the bed. It’s been a couple of weeks since they had sex, and it’s quite a shock when Cas realizes that Dean feels even plumper, rounder, softer than he did before. He gets distracted staring at the new fat in Dean’s ass, grabbing it in his hands and taking it all in, but then Dean shouts at him to hurry the fuck up already, so he lines up and sinks into Dean’s slick hole without a second thought.

As they lie knotted together on their bed a few minutes later, Cas is not even surprised when Dean reaches over to the nightstand and pulls out a family-sized bag of M&M’s.

“Want some?” Dean asks as he throws entire handfuls of them into his mouth.

“No, thanks. Is A.J. with Sam?”

“Yeah, he swung by an hour before you got home.”

And so it goes for three days. When they’re not fucking, Dean’s eating. And eating. And eating some more. When they fuck, he’s so full that Cas is reminded what it felt like to fuck him when he was pregnant. Except he’s even bigger now. It’s slow and lazy, and Dean makes the most obscene moaning sounds when Cas kisses and rubs his belly while buried inside of him.

And Cas swears at the end of his heat, Dean looks and feels even heavier than he did before.

*****

People start to notice. Sure, it’s always been a little weird in public that Cas is smaller in stature and is less broad than his omega, but add in all the excess weight and people are really starting to raise eyebrows.

At first it annoyed Cas. He would burn hot with protective rage when someone would stare too long at Dean’s body or would look confused at the two of them holding hands, but then Cas realized that he kind of…likes it.

He likes that people look a little disgusted at restaurants when he’s got an arm wrapped around Dean’s waist and a hand digging into his hip as Dean scarfs down burgers and fries followed by dessert even though he already had a milkshake as a drink. And he loves that Dean doesn’t seem to notice at all. He stays focused on his food, stops every so often to burp and rub at the tightness in his belly, leans back in his seat and closes his eyes whenever his plate’s cleared.

It’s mesmerizing watching his omega act completely un-omega like. Omegas are taught to be small, unobtrusive, to get out of everyone else’s way. They are meant to serve their alphas and not take up too much space. But Dean? Dean takes up the space he deserves and more. He spreads out and grows into his alpha’s personal space and damn the consequences. He is unapologetically _too big_ to be an omega, and Cas is falling in love with him all over again because of it.

Even their daughter comments on it one Saturday afternoon after they’ve gotten home from shopping for new clothes for Dean (not even his elastic waistband paternity clothes fit him anymore). She reaches up to pat Dean’s belly as he’s putting groceries away, and he says, “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Your belly is _so big,_ Daddy.”

Cas doesn’t even try to hold back his laugh.

Dean squats down and pinches A.J.’s cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He scoops her up and plants her on his hip. “It makes a nice comfortable seat for you to sit on, right?”

She nods vigorously and pats Dean’s chest with her tiny hand.

“OK, now are you going to help Daddy make dinner or what?”

“Yeah!”

Cas sits at the island entranced as he watches his omega move effortlessly around the kitchen with their daughter on his hip. Leave it to Dean to make extra weight an advantage.

When Sam comes over for dinner a week later, the first thing he does is pointedly drift his eyes down to Dean’s stomach with a skeptical look on his face.

“You pregnant again?” he asks point-blank.

Dean laughs so hard his belly shakes, and he drops a hand to it and rubs it dramatically. “Nah, I’m just well fed.”

“ _Really_ well fed,” Cas cuts in.

“You know you like it,” Dean flirts with a wink and a slap to his growing gut.

Now Cas is the one receiving the skeptical look from Sam, and it’s no more than two hours later that his brother-in-law is sitting next to him on their porch while Dean puts A.J. to bed, asking, “Seriously, there a reason why Dean’s…put on, like, 50 pounds?”

“Fifty? I’d guess it’s more like 60 or 70.” Cas rocks in his chair and takes a swig of beer.

“When was the last time he saw a scale?”

“As far as I know, when he was pregnant with A.J.”

“How much was he then?”

“He put on 40 for her, so…I think it was 250ish. He was probably down to 220 or so after her birth.”

Sam scrubs a hand down his face. “Cas, he’s got to be pushing 270 or 80 now, don’t you think?”

“Are you worried?”

 _“Should_ I be? Does it bother _you?”_

Cas is suddenly struck with the memory of the night before when he fully intended on fucking the daylights out of Dean and instead got so distracted worshiping his belly with his hands and lips that he ended up feeding Dean two slices of pie afterward and definitely _not_ having any sex. Or all the times Cas has fallen asleep curled into Dean’s side with his head pillowed on his giant belly, his arm wrapped tight across his waist. He’s been sleeping better than he has in the entirety of their relationship actually.

“Oh my god, you _like_ it,” Sam says after it takes Cas way too long to respond.

“I mean…OK, yes. I like it. Admittedly, I was most attracted to your brother during his pregnancy, but I thought that was just all the pregnancy hormones and scents he was giving off. I didn’t think it was because…”

Sam laughs and tips his beer back. “Whatever, man. If you guys are happy, I’m happy. And god knows _he_ seems happy, the fat idiot.”

“Yeah he does, doesn’t he?”

*****

The next time Dean goes into heat, Cas can’t lift him.

*****

“Hey, Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas.”

“Do you—have you—do you think we—”

Dean continues moving about the kitchen as he says, “Spit it out, buddy.”

“Do you know how much you weigh?”

He shrugs with his back still turned to Cas.

“Are you not, um, curious?”

That gets his attention enough to make him turn and lean back against the counter. He crosses his arms over his chest, which makes his shirt ride up above his lower roll of fat, and he smirks. “I know you get off on me getting fat, but I didn’t think you cared about the numbers.”

Cas nearly chokes. “You—you _know?”_

“Of course I know, you moron.” Dean moves across to the island and places his hands on the surface so he can lean forward toward Cas. “I mean, I wasn’t exactly the skinniest even when we met.”

“Are you—have you been gaining weight because of me, then?”

“No, dude, I wouldn’t do that if I didn’t want to. What do you think I am, some kind of submissive omega or something? I just missed the extra weight from being pregnant, and I missed the food, too. So I decided to just fuck it and start eating how I would if I had no self-control, and—” Dean steps back and slaps his gut a few times, “—here we are.”

Cas jumps up on the island and slides across it to wrap his legs around Dean and pull him in close. He grabs him by the back of his neck and yanks him in for a bruising kiss before saying, “Scale. Now.”

Dean smirks again and then kisses Cas as he lifts him off the counter and carries him into their bathroom. They continue making out against the sink as Cas strips Dean down to his boxers and kicks the scale out from behind the toilet.

“C’mon, get your fatass up there,” Cas commands with a smack to Dean’s ass.

Dean jumps and wiggles in mock excitement before stepping onto the scale. “All right, give it to me. I think I’ll fall off if I try to lean over and see it myself.”

Cas feels his heart pounding in his ears as he moves around his husband and reads the numbers on the screen. _“Fuck_ me,” he breathes involuntarily.

“What? What is it?”

“Sorry. Um—you weigh 302 pounds.”

 _“What?”_ Dean exclaims as he steps off the scale and stares down at himself, grabbing at his fat as if he’s just now recognizing that it’s there.

Cas just laughs.

“Why are you laughing, asshole?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just—it’s absurd. You weren’t even _trying_ very hard to gain weight, and you put on—you put on 80 pounds since having A.J.”

Dean continues examining himself, turning this way and that to try to get a read on his ass and his back fat, pinching at his love handles and the layers of fat around his arms. But now he’s laughing, too. “No wonder the ladies at the daycare keep asking if you and me are still together.”

“What? I told you to tell me if your coworkers—”

Dean cuts him off with another kiss. “They’re middle-aged women and grandmothers, Cas. They’re not being malicious.” Dean raises his hands above his head and cracks his back before letting out a huge breath and scratching his gut. “You hungry? I’m going to make dinner.”

***** 

It’s a Monday night when Cas gets home from work later than usual and finds his omega asleep at the kitchen table with an empty pie tin in front of him. Cas quietly goes up behind him and massages his shoulders before kissing his temple and asking, “You going to wake up for me, omega?”

Dean slowly blinks his eyes open and gives Cas a lopsided smile before kissing him on the nose. “I have news.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Dean stretches out and grabs his stomach with both of his hands. “I’m pregnant.”

Cas stares at him.

Dean raises his eyebrows waiting for a response.

“I’m sorry, I thought you said you were _pregnant.”_

“I did, asshole. Took the test when I got home today. I haven’t kept down a meal in like a week, dude. I can’t believe you haven’t noticed. Don’t I smell different or something?”

Cas pulls a chair out and sinks into it. He’s still staring at Dean. “But we weren’t even—we weren’t trying.”

“No, but my last heat was three months ago, and we didn’t exactly _prevent_ it either.”

“Good point.”

“Anyway, I made a doctor’s appointment for this weekend.”

“Oh—OK.”

“Cas? You all right?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I just…another baby.” He smiles so big it hurts his mouth. “We’re going to have another baby.”

Dean smiles back before pulling Cas into his lap and hugging him tight. Cas buries his face in his husband’s chubby neck and cries quietly.

***** 

“Excuse me?”

“Twins. You’re—you’re going to have twins.”

Cas takes a deep breath and tries not to scare the ultrasound technician any more than he already has. “Twins,” he repeats.

Dean grabs his hand and shakes it happily. “Hey, we’re lucky I’ve been making room for these guys, right?” Dean looks pointedly from Cas’ face to his own belly and then back to Cas’ face before he winks.

“Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

Six more months of Dean growing twins inside of him. He gained 40 pounds with just one…Cas can’t imagine how big he’s going to get with two.


	47. Not Supposed to have Pork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean/Aaron, "Everybody Hates Hitler" coda because of [this fan art.](http://season4hair.tumblr.com/post/118455238916/i-drew-chubby-dean-and-deancasheadcanons-made-a)

Dean looks over at his brother and throws a silent  _what?_  in his direction.

Sam shakes his head and looks away.

Dean just wants to ask what the hell his deal is. The case they’re on has been going well, in Dean’s opinion, but for some reason Sam has been acting…weird.

He keeps giving Dean glares like he does when Dean says something inappropriate, and he keeps looking him up and down like he’s surveying him or something. And then he nervously tugs on his own shirt before looking away from Dean.

It makes no sense.

“So, as far as I can tell, these experiments - the Thule were murdering Jews, gypsies, just about anybody and everybody,” Sam says to Aaron.

While Sam talks, Dean takes his coffee across the kitchen and picks up a pastry sitting on the counter. He shoves the whole thing in his mouth. Cheese danish. Nice.

“This is why they killed my grandfather?” Aaron asks.

“Anything in there on how to kill it?” Dean refills his coffee as he talks, shoves another danish in his mouth.

Sam gives him that look again.

Dean glares back at him and crosses his legs as he leans back against the counter.

“Uh, um, apparently, they experimented with that, too. Um, headshot. But, if you don’t burn the body within 12 hours, it reanimates again.”

“Nazi bastards.” Dean’s stomach growls, and he turns to see if there are any danishes left. Instead, he notices a box of donuts in the corner. “Hey, Aaron, are these donuts–”

“They’re a couple days old. Go ahead and finish them off if you want, I’m not going to,” Aaron cuts in. 

Dean almost misses the dark look Aaron gives him. He blushes and ducks his chin just like he did at the bar earlier. What  _is_ it with this guy.

Sam and Aaron keep talking while Dean scopes out the donut situation. While old food is not really his favorite thing, he’s pretty damn hungry and he’s not going to pass up free jelly-filled donuts. Three of them. Sure, they’re not the best thing he’s ever had, but it’ll do for now.

“Dean.”

“Hmm?” Dean turns with his mouth full and tries to wipe the jelly he knows is coating his face.

Sam rolls his eyes. “We need to find more on the Thule Society. Can you go by our motel, check us out and bring our stuff back here?”

“Mm-hmm,” Dean replies with a nod. He shoves half a donut in his mouth and grabs the last one in the box before leaving the kitchen.

He can’t be entirely too sure, but for some reason he thinks he hears Aaron say, “Your brother single?” after he rounds the corner.

*****

Dean is struggling to get his jacket off and arguing on the phone with Garth when he comes back into Aaron’s house a couple hours later. He tosses their duffel bags on the floor and take-out bags on the table.

Sam sees the take-out then gives Dean a  _really?_  look as if it’s somehow a surprise that Dean would have junk food. Seriously, what is Sam’s  _deal?_

Dean’s hanging up as he goes into the kitchen to grab a couple of beers for them. Sam’s yelling at him from the other room, but Dean’s momentarily distracted by the cheese danishes in the fridge. So Aaron had more of them then. He’s just about to reach for one when he feels a hand on his hip. He tries to grab his gun, but he’s cut short.

“You’re a pig, you know that?” Aaron whispers in his ear before Dean can turn around.

Dean clears his throat and grips the open fridge door tighter. “I, uh – yeah.”

Aaron moves his hand from Dean’s hip to his front, and then he tries to squeeze his palm into the tight space where Dean’s stomach hangs over his waistband. “I’m not supposed to have pork.”

“You, uh, you already told us you’re not a very good Jew.”

Aaron laughs and gives up trying to get under Dean’s belly, shoves his hand up Dean’s t-shirt instead. “And you don’t fit in these clothes.” He kisses the back of Dean’s neck. “Go ahead, eat as many danishes as you want.”

Dean definitely does not yelp and nearly fall into the fridge when Aaron smacks his ass before leaving the kitchen. He  _does_ definitely nervously shove six danishes in his face before he goes back to the living room though.

They’re eating lunch and talking about the case and Sam keeps giving Dean those looks but now he seems to be a bit more concerned and after Dean’s eaten his second cheeseburger he notices his belt digging uncomfortably into his stomach and Sam asks if he’s all right and Dean excuses himself.

 _I haven’t gained_ that _much weight,_ is all Dean thinks as he walks to the bathroom.

But then he’s looking at himself in the mirror and he almost doesn’t recognize what he sees. He turns beet red when he realizes the reason why Sammy’s been so weird today is because Dean’s stomach is literally hanging out of his t-shirt. He can’t even see his belt under his belly, and when he goes to adjust the notches he stops when he feels the faint stretch marks littered all over his skin. 

_Fuck._

“OK, I can fix this,” he reasons with himself as he pulls on the ends of his flannel and tries to button it. There’s still an inch left between the buttons and the holes when he starts to feel the seams tear in his back. “OK, maybe I can’t.”

He really starts to survey himself then. How round his cheeks are, how chubby his chin’s gotten. What happened to his jawline? Everything suddenly feels tight, and didn’t he just buy these pants two weeks ago? Why does it feel like his ass is going to rip right out of them? He tries tugging on his t-shirt, but it’s no use. There’s no way to cover the soft roll of fat that now hangs precariously out from his previously flat stomach. He starts poking and prodding, pulling at his love handles and digging his fingers into his pliant skin. He even jumps up and down like an idiot and watches how his belly rises and falls. He places his hands on his thigh and shakes it, wondering where the hell all his muscle went.

So maybe he’s been eating two cheeseburgers a day instead of just one, and perhaps with the new bunker he’s been snacking like it’s his job, and  _maybe_ now that they have a proper kitchen and space for keeping food he makes a lot of pie and eats a lot of everything and pretty much stuffs his face every hour of every day and yeah OK so he’s gained a lot of weight.

He stares in the mirror just a minute longer.

He shrugs. “Whatever,” he mumbles to himself before scratching his belly and returning to the living room.

Sam looks at him again, concerned, and Aaron looks at him again, devilishly, and Dean just smirks.

“There any burgers left?” he asks as he rifles through the take-out bags and purposely leans over so his belly is even more prominent, his ass straining against the back of his jeans.

“Yeah,” Aaron answers almost a little too enthusiastically.

“Perfect,” Dean says as he finds the last burger and winks at Aaron. 

They continue talking about the case, and Dean stands back against the wall facing them as he scarfs down his third burger. When he’s done, he tosses the wrapper at the table and heaves a sigh. He deliberately rubs his stomach where his t-shirt doesn’t cover it before sucking in and reaching for his belt.

He makes eye contact with Sam as he switches his belt from the second hole to the first. (He used to wear this belt on the fifth hole.) Then he winks.

Sam rolls his eyes.

Aaron’s mouth drops open.


	48. Double Pizza Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a two-person pizza challenge that Dean is determined to do with Cas. Except Cas doesn't play fair.

“C’mon, Cas, it’ll be fun.”

“Your idea of ‘fun’ is usually not very fun at all, Dean.”

“Free pizza for a  _year_ , dude. That’s like…the fucking American dream, man. Please? For me?”

Of course Cas concedes. When Dean gets his mind set on something, there’s really no changing it. Besides, maybe this  _will_ be somewhat fun for Cas. Different kind of fun than what Dean’s expecting, but fun just the same.

They go to the small pizza parlor with a vaguely Italian name and family ownership, and Dean yanks on Cas’ hand and pulls him toward a booth in the back of the restaurant. He orders water for both of them and then says, “And we’d like to do the double challenge today.”

Their server doesn’t really make a big deal out of it, and Cas is glad. He doesn’t need the eyes of all the customers watching them for what he’s about to do.

“Dude, this is going to be so great. I’m going to eat as much as I can, but you pitch in whenever, OK? We shouldn’t have any problem finishing in under an hour,” Dean states very seriously, his leg shaking against Cas’ under the booth.

Cas doesn’t say anything.

Dean keeps nervously chattering until finally the giant, square pizza that takes up most of the table is set in front of them and the timer begins.

Dean has scarfed down three pieces before he even notices that Cas hasn’t touched a single slice. 

“Dude, what gives? C’mon, dig in.”

“I’m not a cheater, Dean. Two  _humans_  have to complete this challenge. You’re on your own.”

The glare Dean gives him almost makes Cas laugh, but he keeps his composure and gestures deliberately toward the mountain of pizza between them.

“Eat fast,” is all Cas says.

About 20 minutes in, their server comes over and gives Cas a suspicious look, but Cas doesn’t care. He’s too busy watching Dean eat.

Thirty minutes in, Dean hits a wall and has to slow down. He lethargically shoves his 10th slice one small bite at a time into his mouth while he leans back in his seat and rubs a fist into his belly. 

“You’re doing great, Dean,” Cas states in a hushed tone while Dean devours his 12th slice through frustrated moans.

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full.”

Fifty-five minutes in, there are still six slices of pizza left. Dean tries his damnedest and shoves so much food into his mouth that Cas is sure his jaw might break, but no luck. The timer goes off, and there is still pizza left on the table.

“Sorry, guys. Better luck next time,” their server says as he clears off the table.

“Is there a limit on how many times we can do the challenge?” Dean asks, sounding more wrecked than he does after Cas has fucked him reverse cowboy style.

“No, sir. You can come in every day if you want.”

Dean glares at Cas across the table, and Cas knows exactly what’s going through his mind.

Two days later, they’re back.

Dean has a fresh determination, and Cas feels a chill down his spine every time Dean looks at him like he’s going to kill him.

Cas leans forward with his elbows on the table and whispers, “If you complete this challenge, I’ll give you rim jobs every day for a week.”

Dean eats an entire slice in one bite.

“How many times do you think it’s going to take before your appetite’s big enough to finish this? Will you even fit in the booth by that point?”

Dean drops a hand to his belly and shuts his eyes.

“Is that all you’ve got? It took you three minutes to finish that slice. That’s never going to work.”

Dean takes a slice in each hand and switches back and forth between the two.

“You’re going to get so huge, Dean. All that pizza inside of you…I can’t wait to see it.”

There are five pieces left this time.

Dean insists that they return every couple of days until he completes the challenge.

After two weeks, his shirts start riding up over his belly. He yanks down on them every few minutes but to no avail. 

After a month, he has to buy new pants. His flannels struggle to button.

After a month and a half, he’s famous at the restaurant. The wait staff rubs his belly for good luck, and the owner always comments on how ready he looks to complete the challenge. “You’re looking like you can fit more in there every day, sir.” Dean doesn’t need to know how much Cas is tipping them for it.

They’re just barely at two months when Cas decides to try a different tactic and talks dirty to Dean for the full hour.

The button on Dean’s jeans pops off right near the end, which distracts everybody from noticing the come stain at his crotch. He had seven slices left that time, his worst yet.

It’s not just the pizza, either. Dean’s appetite has increased exponentially, and it becomes more obvious every day. Sam stopped asking about it a month ago when Cas continually shrugged his questions off. He doesn’t need to worry about his brother eating an ever increasing stack of pancakes and eggs for breakfast every morning, two cheeseburgers and fries and onion rings for lunch, chips and candy bars and cookies for snacks, whatever family-sized dinner he decides to cook up at night followed by several slices of pie. Not to mention how often Dean pads out into the kitchen in the middle of the night and snacks on whatever his sleepy self can reach.

What Sam is more annoyed with is Cas and Dean’s increased sex life. Cas can’t get enough of Dean’s growing body, and he shows it. Sometimes he can’t help himself when he walks into the kitchen and sees Dean at the stove, his ass nearly ripping the seams of his pajama pants, his back spilling out the sides and hanging out of his too-tight t-shirt. Dean has learned how to cook while receiving a blow job. He’s learned how to clean up really well after being fucked on the counter. And, most regrettably, he’s learned how to push all of Cas’ buttons.

It’s torture. Dean purposely wears clothes that show off all that extra pizza weight, and if Cas has to stare at the outline of his belly button through his shirt one more time–

He also deliberately eats like a cow, filling his cheeks full of food before moaning, rubbing his belly, and stuffing more in his mouth before he’s even swallowed. And he’s so  _pampered_ , too, constantly asking Cas for belly rubs and whining when he doesn’t get enough food or he eats too much and gets a stomach ache.

The day Dean finally finishes the double challenge and wins free pizza for a year, Cas barely gets the car into the garage before he’s tearing Dean’s clothes off (he needs new ones again anyway) and kissing and grabbing every inch of his huge, bloated belly. 

Dean laughs at being tickled and drops a pudgy hand to Cas’ hair. “If I’d known you’d be like this, I would’ve gotten fat years ago.”


	49. Broken Arm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: chubby!Dean going on a hunt after being out of commission for a couple months with a broken arm (unable to exercise very well), and falling behind, nearly getting hurt again. Sammy gets upset because he thought his brother wasn't ready, and gives him the cold shoulder. But Cas comes along and makes Dean feel better with a big hug and sweet words of motivation and happiness.

It hadn’t happened since the Leviathan, when Cas was gone and Sam was hurt and Dean woke up hopped up on drugs in the hospital.

It didn’t affect him much, then. Breaking his leg. He was back up in a few weeks, no problem.

But now he’s old. He’s got a house of his own with everything he could ever need. He’s got Cas.

So when he fractures his arm on a hunt and gets laid up for two months, it affects him more this time around.

For starters, Cas suddenly turns into an overbearing caretaker. He doesn’t let Dean leave his bed for the first week, and he makes all of his meals for him and does his laundry and checks his cast every five seconds. Dean rejects it at first, but then he realizes how nice it is to be pampered and decides to just roll with it.

So by week two, he’s decided to wear pajamas 100 percent of the time and only leave his bed when he needs to use the bathroom. Sam calls him lazy, tells him he should be back on his feet by now because “it’s not like it’s your leg that’s broken, dude.”

Dean tells him to shut his cakehole.

By the beginning of the third week, he’s feeling antsy. Cas helps him into a real change of clothes, and the two of them go to an iHop down the road. By the end of the meal, Dean is so stuffed he’s finding it hard to breathe.

“Dude, how much did I just eat?” he asks, looking down at the empty plates in front of him and trying to remember everything he ordered. He rubs his belly with his good arm, trying to knead the taut skin but it won’t budge.

“No more than you’ve been eating the past few weeks,” Cas says casually as he finishes off his own meal.

He looks down at the plates again and tries to remember what Cas has been feeding him since he got hurt. Usually he’s sitting in bed watching soaps when Cas comes in and sets a plate or two down next to him. He eats blindly, knowing the food is good without really processing what it is. He moves his hand to the waistband of his jeans and realizes that the button is incredibly strained, the flap flipped over his belt loops to accommodate his girth.

“Huh,” he says to himself. 

Maybe he hasn’t noticed how full he’s been lately because he’s been wearing elastic waistband pajama pants. 

While Dean quietly assesses the situation, the server comes back and asks if they need anything else. Cas orders chocolate chip pancakes with extra whipped cream.

“Dude!” Dean chastises.

“What? You said earlier you wanted to try them.”

“Yeah, but. I’m about to bust.”

There’s some room in Dean’s stomach by the time the stack of pancakes arrives. He eats vigorously, commenting between bites about how good they are. Halfway through the stack he has to discreetly unbutton his pants. He groans when he’s done, setting down his fork and announcing, “I could eat like 10 more of those. No! Cas, don’t order more.”

He doesn’t even bother covering up his unbuttoned jeans as they leave. He’s practically waddling anyway, so who really cares.

He decides no more real pants until he’s better.

By week five, even the elastic in his pajamas is feeling tight. His t-shirts are riding up and hugging his hips and arms, the seams ripping up by his shoulders. Cas brings him whatever he asks for, and he can’t remember the last time his stomach felt empty.

One night, Cas sets down a plate of cheeseburgers and starts to leave the room. Dean turns the TV on mute and says, “Hey.”

“You need something else, Dean?”

“No, just. Uh, why don’t you come sit with me?”

A small smile pulls at Cas’ lips as he takes the empty side of Dean’s bed. They watch TV together and occasionally talk, Dean belatedly realizing that he ran out of cheeseburgers quicker than he expected. When he asks Cas how many there were, Cas says four.

“I’m still hungry, we got any pie?”

He falls asleep with his cast flung over his full belly. Cas isn’t next to him when he wakes up in the morning.

He keeps asking Cas to stay, and they end up holed up in Dean’s room pretty much all day every day. Cas keeps bringing food, and Dean keeps eating until his appetite has grown so much that he wakes up in the middle of the night with a grumbling stomach. Cas buys him bigger pajamas.

When his arm is almost totally healed, he kisses Cas in bed one night and whispers, “Stay.”

He doesn’t wake up alone the next morning. Cas’ arm is wrapped protectively around his growing belly, and Dean’s good arm covers Cas’. When Cas starts to stir, he pinches Dean’s fat and rolls his skin between his fingers.

“You hungry?” Cas grumbles in his ear.

“Always.”

Cas kisses him behind the ear and says, “Stay here,” before he disappears to go make breakfast.

Everything comes to a screeching halt three days later when Dean gets his cast off.

Sam’s been keeping his distance, so the first day he walks into the kitchen to find Dean sitting at the table eating a bowl of cereal, he says, “Whoa.”

“What?” Dean grunts.

“Who are you and what did you do with my brother?”

“The hell you talking about, Sammy?”

“Nothing, just…is Cas fattening you up for a ritual sacrifice or something?”

“Bite me.”

“So, uh, when are you going to be ready to hunt again? Any of your clothes even fit you anymore?”

Dean scoffs at him and angrily eats his cereal. 

Cas comes in then, greeting Sam before placing his hands on Dean’s shoulders and leaning down for a kiss. Dean tips his head back to catch his lips, a goofy grin on his face as he focuses back on his cereal.

“What the fuck is going on?” Sam asks.

“Dean, would you like some eggs?” Cas says.

“Yes, please. And bacon, too?”

“All right, um,” Sam interrupts. “We’re hunting again. Soon. So if you guys could stop this weird domestic–”

“Yeah, yeah, we got it, Sammy.”

While Cas goes out to buy Dean some clothes that’ll actually fit him, Dean checks himself out in the bathroom for the first time since he got hurt.

“Son of a bitch,” he breathes as he turns this way and that, grabbing his gut in his hands and yanking his t-shirt down to watch it stretch over his strained skin.

He’s gained weight everywhere, really. His cheeks are chubby, his pecs are soft, his arms rest away from his body because there’s too much going on up by his armpits. But the belly is really the most noticeable part. He rubs it and smacks it, fascinated by how round and heavy it is. It hangs over the waistband of his pants now, the lower curve of it covered in faint stretch marks. He kneads his skin lovingly, briefly wondering what it would look like if he was truly stuffed to capacity. As if in response, his stomach grumbles. He heads out into his room and scarfs down two candy bars before deciding to weigh himself.

He’s been about 190 since his late 20s, but it’s not like he regularly steps on the scale that lies unused in his bathroom.

He’s 230 now.

“Son of a _bitch,”_  he says again.

“Dean?” Cas asks from the other room.

“Yeah, in here.”

He doesn’t step off the scale. Cas comes up behind him and hooks his chin on his shoulder, wraps one arm around his belly.

“Two-thirty? I expected more, honestly,” Cas says with a squeeze to the lower roll of his stomach.

“What size jeans did you get?”

“Big enough to grow into, if you want.”

Dean turns and gives Cas a skeptical look. He slides his arms around Cas’ waist and pulls their bodies together by his ass. “If you wanted me to get fat, you should’ve just said so.”

Cas smiles and leans in for a brief kiss. “You’re perfect any way you are, Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes and smacks Cas’ ass. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. C’mon, we got a hunt to get to.”

It’s not that Dean’s out of shape. He just isn’t used to carrying an extra 40 pounds, and he hasn’t hunted in two months. He’s rusty.

That’s why he almost gets killed on day two of the job.

“Look, Sam, it was an accident!”

Sam slams the motel door behind him and turns on Dean with a humorless laugh. “Yeah, an accident to sit on your fat ass for two months getting soft. You could’ve died, Dean.”

Dean gets into his personal space almost to the point where his stomach could bump into Sam’s. “You got a problem with my weight?”

“I’ve got a problem with you not being on top of your game.” He stomps back to the door and slams it again on his way out.

Cas sits quietly on the bed, so Dean goes over to him with a sigh and plops down next to him.

“I didn’t push you to eat more than you usually do,” Cas begins. “I just didn’t…stop you when you wanted more. I didn’t mean to hurt you on hunts.”

Dean rubs his thigh and soothes, “Shh, Cas, it’s OK. It’s not your fault. But, uh, Sammy’s got a point. I need to drop this weight if I want to hunt.”

Cas looks at him sadly. “You don’t want to though.”

“Not really, no. Kind of like it,” Dean mumbles.

“I like it, too.”

“Well, uh. I just need to start exercising again. Learn how to carry the extra weight?”

“In the meantime,” Cas pauses and takes Dean’s hand in his own. “Let’s go get something to eat.” 


	50. Wedding Day Roleplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cas and Dean are married and are cleaning out their closet and see their suits they wore on their wedding day and they see that Dean has "outgrown" his a little since then.

“Cas! Hey, Cas! Come in here!”

Cas drafts his email and closes his laptop before heading toward his and Dean’s bedroom. He stands in the doorway and crosses his arms, watching Dean rummage through the closet. OK, fine, he watches Dean’s ass as he rummages through the closet.

“This is a nice view, Dean, but why exactly am I here?”

Dean turns around quickly, holding up a tux in each hand. “Look what I found.”

Cas steps into the room. “Are those our–”

“Wedding tuxes, yeah. I didn’t even know we still had these, dude.”

“I didn’t either,” Cas answers absentmindedly as he runs his hands over the sleeve of his own suit jacket. It brings back a lot of good memories, of nervously saying vows and ripping them off in the bathroom for a quickie before the reception and then ripping them off again on the dance floor at the reception and then ripping them off again in the hotel room later that night–

“C’mon, let’s try them on,” Dean says excitedly, already heading toward the bathroom.

“Um, why?” 

“Because! It’ll be fun.” Dean moves in close to Cas and whispers in his ear, “And we can roleplay our wedding night.”

“Dean, I’m not sure that’s a good–”

“Why the hell not?”

_Because it’s been 10 years since our wedding, and you’ve put on at least 50 pounds since then._  “Fine. Give me mine.”

Their bathroom is too small for both of them, but they go in together anyway. Cas easily pulls on his pants, but admittedly it’s pretty tight in the waist. He has to suck in to button it. No surprise there, it’s not like he expects to look exactly the same he did a decade ago.

Dean, though. 

“Goddamn it,” he mutters as seams start to rip around his thighs. 

Cas stares blankly for a second, mesmerized by his shirtless husband attempting to squeeze his ass into pants at least three sizes too small. Eventually his brain goes back online, and he reaches forward to grab the flaps of the fly from Dean so he can help.

“You know, you didn’t have much of an ass when you first wore these,” Cas comments as another seam rips.

“Hey, you calling me fat?”

Cas lightly smacks Dean’s belly and watches it jiggle before returning his attention to the pants. “Yes.”

Dean grunts and sucks in, squirming around to try to get the pants to make it over the last little bit of his (huge) ass. Cas pushes Dean’s belly up and tells him to suck in as much as he can while he does the button. It takes a lot of effort, but finally the button meets the hole and Cas does the zipper up quickly.

He steps back and announces, “There. Now whatever you do, don’t breathe.”

Dean holds his stomach up and responds, “I  _can’t_  breathe.”

“You’re going to have to let go of your stomach in order to get your shirt on.”

Dean looks down at himself and bites his lower lip. Very carefully, he drops his belly. It hangs so far over his waistband that the fly is completely out of sight.

After a total of five seconds, the button  _pings_  off, the zipper pushes itself down, and Dean heaves a sigh of relief as his belly spills out in front of him. He rubs his hand down the center of it reverently.

“That was impressive,” Cas says, staring at where Dean’s hand disappears under his gut.

“The back ripped, too.”

“Are you serious?”

Dean turns his hips, and sure enough the pants are ripped clear down the middle. Cas can’t help himself. He pushes up behind his husband and grabs a handful of his ass. 

“Have I ever told you that you have the most perfect ass I’ve ever seen?”

“Yeah, dude, like every day. C’mon, let’s see if I can get the shirt on.”

Dean starts with putting on a wife beater that barely even covers his belly button. As he’s straining to get his arms through the sleeves of the button-down, Cas states, “I don’t think I realized until right now just how big you’ve gotten.”

“Well, gee, Cas, that’s nice of you.” Dean makes a strangled noise as he finally gets both arms in. They’re stuck at an angle out from his body, unable to move anymore without tearing the entire backside of the shirt.

“Of course I know you’ve gained a significant amount of weight since our wedding day. But it’s been so long that you were thin that I sort of forgot that you ever  _were_  thin.”

“Not helping, Cas. You’re going to have to button for me.”

The shirt is only slightly easier than the pants. Dean still has to suck in, and Cas rips a button off just trying to pull both sides together. He manages to get all the rest up, but there are gaping holes between every button and once again, the shirt barely even covers his belly button.

Cas laughs and says, “OK, breathe out. It’s going to be a mess.”

Every single button pops off, and the back rips. Dean struggles to yank the shirt off of his thick arms, and then they decide not to even try the jacket.

Dean stands in his boxer briefs and stares down at his stomach. He grabs it between his hands and says, “In hindsight, I should’ve known that wouldn’t work out.”

Cas pushes his own hand onto Dean’s stomach and kisses him on the neck. “I love your body now more than ever, fatass.”

Dean rakes his eyes over Cas’ body and says, “I notice  _your_ tux still fits.”

Cas hungrily seals their mouths together. “Yes, we can still do half the roleplaying.”

In the blink of an eye Dean lifts Cas up onto the counter and whispers in his ear, “Let’s rip yours up like I ripped mine.”


	51. Like a Cow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dean having a slight fetish and just really enjoys watching Cas eat certain snacks cause goddamn if that profile isn't one of a god what with the sharp jaw, high cheek bones and button nose.

It begins innocently enough. 

Cas falls, moves into the bunker, begins to eat regularly like a normal human being.

It really shouldn’t be anything special. 

And yet.

Dean stares. He knows he stares. He starts cooking a lot more, and when Sam notices and asks about it, he shrugs and says he just likes cooking. They’re slowing down anyway, it’s not like they have to eat fast food shit all the time.

That’s what Dean tells himself at least. And if Sam also notices the way Dean goes a little slack-jawed while watching Cas eat, he doesn’t say anything.

He really can’t help it. It’s just obscene, the way Cas crams food into his mouth like he did all those years ago when he could eat a few hundred cheeseburgers without blinking. It’s simultaneously desperate and reverent, pleasurable and urgent. He eats like he’s starving, but also like there’s nothing better he’s ever tasted in the entire world, like there’s nothing he’d rather do than eat all the time.

And he  _does_. Sure, Dean eats a lot himself, but Cas fucking puts him to shame. He’s always got a snack in his hand or his head in the fridge, and he gets seconds at lunch and thirds at dinner no matter what the fuck Dean makes for him. 

For a while, Dean wonders where the hell he puts it all. That is, until about three months in when Cas wanders into the kitchen one morning scratching his belly, and Dean almost spits his coffee. His stomach hangs over the waistband of his pajamas and peeks out of the bottom of his shirt, which is stretched so thin that the outline of his belly button is visible through it. 

Dean doesn’t eat breakfast that morning. He holds his fork over his plate of eggs and stares as Cas sleepily walks around with his gut hanging out like it’s just always been there or something. Dean continues to gawk as Cas downs a mug of coffee before piling the rest of the eggs (Dean doesn’t bother telling him to save some for Sam) onto a plate and plopping down at the table. Dean swears the chair creaks a little with Cas’ new weight.

They make small talk while Cas eats and Dean stares, and when Cas is done he leans back in his chair and rubs a hand over his belly before asking, “Dean, would you make me some pancakes?”

Two pancakes turn into ten, and this time when he’s done Cas grabs his stomach in both his hands and groans about how he ate too much.

Without even thinking, Dean crosses over to where Cas is sitting, rucks up his shirt and massages the soreness out of his full belly.

Cas closes his eyes, moans, rubs his hand up and down Dean’s arm in appreciation. Dean almost comes in his pants.

It only gets worse. Cas keeps eating like it’s his job, and the weight keeps piling on. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, and so Dean takes it upon himself to replace his wardrobe for him. Cas actually thanks him for that one, saying, “All of my clothes were getting too tight.” (Which, really, was a huge understatement. It had been several weeks since he could fit into anything other than pajamas and sweats, and all of his shirts had become crop tops. His belly hung low and heavy and round, his sides spilled out of his clothes, the hems of his sleeves ripped around the girth of his arms. And Dean was reluctant to buy him shit that fits.)

The way he eats gets worse, too, because now instead of a strong jaw clicking with each bite there’s a double chin and chubby cheeks and Dean can hardly look at Cas anymore without popping a boner.

Sam approaches him about it one night after Cas goes to bed, slapping Dean on the shoulder and saying, “Dude, you’re getting off on Cas gaining weight, aren’t you?”

“What? No! Why would you think–”

“OK, I’ll pretend like I don’t see you absentmindedly rubbing his gut while we watch TV. It’s cool.”

Dean doesn’t say anything.

Six months go by before Cas announces one morning, “I’ve gained 57 pounds since I fell.”

“Good for you, man,” Sam comments genuinely without looking up from his laptop.

Dean, on the other hand, meets Cas in the doorway and squeezes one of his love handles. “You’ve never looked better, Cas,” he whispers.

Cas moves into his personal space, bumping his belly into Dean’s. “You’ve spoiled me, Dean.”

_“I_ spoiled you? The hell you talking about? You ask me to make food for you, and I do. Not my fault you eat everything in sight.”

Cas grabs Dean’s hand and moves it over his stomach, pushing his palm into the soft skin in a slow rhythm. “Yes, but your constant staring and unsubtle adoration of my body is good motivation to, as the phrase says, eat like a cow.”

They stare at each other. Cas smiles when Dean’s eyes accidentally glance down at his lips. They keep staring.

“You guys are gross,” Sam interrupts, still not looking up from his laptop.


	52. Personal Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cas kissing chubby!Dean's belly despite Dean's protests

“Cas, c’mon, I’m trying to eat. Give me some space, please?”

“You’re already occupying more space than should be allowed on this bed.” Cas scoots in closer to Dean and continues to bury his face in Dean’s stomach.

Dean drops his hand to Cas’ hair and yanks his head up so he can look at him. “You can touch me as much as you want as soon as I finish this pie, all right?”

Cas frowns. “You still have half a tin left.”

“Yes, and I fully intend on eating all of it as slowly as I damn well please. Just – watch TV.” Dean gestures his pie tin and fork toward the television.

With a sigh, Cas flips over onto his back, his head still pillowed on Dean’s stomach. He tries to pay attention to what’s on TV, but Dean hums around his bites, pats his stomach every couple of minutes, and his breathing becomes labored the closer he gets to finishing the pie. It’s driving Cas insane.

“You’re insufferable,” Cas says as he turns back over and rucks up Dean’s t-shirt in order to rub circles into his belly.

“You saying I’m fat?”

“No, of course not. I would sooner use the term ‘enormous’ to describe you.” Cas begins kissing a path down Dean’s gut, taking his time near stretch marks.

Dean puts down the empty pie tin and drops his hand back into Cas’ hair, this time just to pet and guide him. “Have I really gotten that fat?”

Cas pinches a roll of fat and answers, “Possibly, yes. And it’s all right here.” He emphasizes his point by lifting up and grabbing as much of Dean’s belly in his hands as he can manage.

Dean laughs and tries to swat his hands away. “That tickles, dude.”

He resumes his kissing, this time picking up the pace and throwing in some raspberries, too.

Dean laughs and shouts, squirming under Cas and trying to get him to stop.

After about a minute, Cas scoots up the bed to lay his head on Dean’s chest and wrap a protective arm around his growing midsection. “You’re not actually concerned about your weight, are you?”

Dean is hesitant to answer. “Should I be?”

Cas squeezes him hard. “No. You’re perfect.”


	53. Hurt Hipbones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cas notices a lot more bruising on his pelvis the morning after Dean rides him and Dean freaks out about hurting him but Cas reassures him telling him he'll just have to eat more to get a little bit more padding.

“Faster, faster, faster,” Cas chants, his hands holding Dean’s hips like they’re handlebars. 

“Cas–you–need–to–move,” Dean pants.

Cas digs his fingers even deeper into Dean’s skin and arches off the bed, driving into Dean while pulling him down onto his lap.

Dean laughs and gasps, pausing for a moment before quickening his already bruising pace. He hooks his ankles behind Cas’ thighs and slams up and down on his cock over and over again until Cas is seeing stars.

“C’mon, c’mon, Cas, c’mon.” Dean pushes his hands into Cas’ chest and locks his elbows in place.

Cas gets the hint and blindly reaches for Dean’s cock. He’s surprised, however, when his hand meets soft flesh instead, so he opens his eyes and laughs when he realizes Dean’s belly is in the way of his erection. Dean doesn’t seem to notice that Cas has to push his stomach out of the way before wrapping a hand around his cock.

Dean comes first, sinking down onto Cas with a sigh and letting his body go lax as Cas continues pounding into him. He slides off before Cas comes, and then they get cleaned up and fall asleep next to each other without another word.

In the morning, Cas wakes up feeling like he got hit by a bus.

“Ow,” he grumbles as he throws the covers off. He looks down at himself and finds big, blue bruises on his hipbones. When he tries to move, his body protests until he falls back onto the sheets with a sigh. 

“Wha’s a matter?” Dean mumbles, turning his head and sleepily squinting at Cas. 

Before Cas can answer, Dean winces and complains, “Fuck, my ass hurts.”

Cas laughs. “My hipbones aren’t much better.”

“What?” Dean asks, concerned. His head pops up, and Cas tries not to laugh at his bedhead. “Did I hurt you?”

“You’re just, uh, slightly heavier than you were the last time we tried that.”

“Heh, ‘slightly.’” Dean flips onto his back and pats his gut a few times. “I guess I should start cutting back if I don’t want to kill you.”

On instinct, Cas reaches over and wraps a protective arm around Dean’s belly. “No. I won’t allow it.”

Dean laughs and scratches Cas’ back, pulling him closer to his side. “You can’t have both, Cas. Cushion or pushin’, pick one.”

Cas thinks about it for a minute, focusing alternately on his hurt hips and Dean’s soft pudge. “We  _can_  have both. I’ll gain weight.”

“What?”

“My body could handle yours better if it was…”

“If you had a little extra padding, I get it. Huh.”

They lie in silence for a few minutes, Cas thinking about how he would have to change his habits to put on weight. He could always just copy Dean’s eating patterns and try his best to match his ridiculous appetite. 

“I like it,” Dean says as if he had been thinking about it, too. “I like this plan a lot.” He pushes away from Cas and hops out of bed, his naked body jiggling as he hastily throws his boxers and a t-shirt on. “C’mon, we got work to do.”

“Dean, my hips. I can’t move.”

“Oh! Right. Stay there.” Dean starts running toward the door.

“What are you–”

“Breakfast in bed, dude! Stay put!”


	54. Say Hey if You're Gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this.](http://deancasheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/132633338701/deanlovestaylorswift-essentialcas)

“Dean, please put some pants on before our guests come over.  _Please._  I’m begging you.”

Dean rubs sleep from his eyes and sits up on the couch. A half-eaten bowl of popcorn falls out of his lap.  _Aw man, I wanted to finish that,_  he thinks as he stares dejectedly down at the mess.

“Dean! Are you listening to me?” his mom asks.

“Yeah, mm-hmm. Pants. Sure. Can you make me another bag of popcorn?” Dean reaches down and starts tossing popcorn back into the bowl. 

With a sigh, his mom grabs the vacuum from the closet and cleans up the mess herself. Dean lies back down on the couch and picks up the remote.

“You know that SNL skit where those girls sing a song about coming home for college and making their parents do everything?” Mary says.

“Uh, yeah?”

“That’s you.”

Dean furrows his brow and pouts, but his mom just rolls her eyes at him.

“I’ll only make you popcorn if you promise to put on pants today. Promise, Dean.”

“OK, OK, I’ll put on pants. I promise.”

Mary pats his face condescendingly and says, “Good boy,” before putting the vacuum back and leaving the room.

Dean mindlessly flips through channels and tries to ignore his growling stomach. He wonders how long he’s been asleep, but his phone is all the way on the coffee table and he’d have to move a few feet to grab it so he’ll just live with not knowing what time it is. 

He just finished his first semester of college, and along with the freshman 15 (OK, maybe more like 25) he also gained extreme laziness, apathy and a general sense of hopelessness about the world. 

He’s been home for two weeks, and he’s still got another two weeks left to go. He’s going to milk it for all it’s worth.

When 10 minutes pass and his mom still hasn’t returned with more popcorn, Dean shouts,  _“Mooooom!”_

 _“I’m coming, I’m coming!”_ she shouts back.

His stomach grumbles again, so he rucks his t-shirt up and scratches it. It’s only then that he remembers the  _real_ reason why he’s been wearing nothing but pajamas and fluffy robes since he got home. All of his clothes are starting to get tight, and he doesn’t really have enough money to buy new ones. He hung his pride and asked for a bunch of new clothes for Christmas, and then he had to endure the shame of Sammy deliberately looking down at his belly and saying, “Figures.”

His mom, thankfully, hasn’t said anything about his weight and continues to make amazing home-cooked meals for him every day since he’s been home. She brings him pretty much whatever he asks for as he does nothing but lie on the couch all day every day, and he’s elected to ignore the fact that even the waistband of his pajama pants are starting to feel strained. 

Whatever. He made the Dean’s List this semester and proved his dad wrong by sticking with pre-med. He deserves to fucking treat himself.

“Here you go, sweetie,” his mom says as she sets a bowl of popcorn directly on his stomach.

“Thanks, Mom,” Dean mumbles with a full mouth.

“Dean. Pants.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sam gets home from school about an hour later, and it’s the first time all day that Dean has some sort of idea of what time it is.

“Move over, fatass,” Sam says as he swats at Dean’s legs. “Give me the remote.”

“No! I was here first.”

“Dean, I’m not having this argument with you. We’re playing Mario Kart, and that’s final.”

“OK, _Mom.”_

 _“What is it now, sweetie?”_  their mom calls from the kitchen.

 _“Nothing!”_ they both shout back.

“Gonna kick your ass,” Sam mutters as he picks his character.

“Yeah right, you twerp.” Dean picks Peach and then they’re off.

Dean wins the first cup, then Sam wins the second cup, and then they get into a fight during the tie-breaking cup that ends with throwing controllers across the room and wrestling on the couch. 

Sam rips the sleeve of Dean’s t-shirt clean off, but the match doesn’t end until Dean accidentally gives Sam a bloody lip.

Their mom comes in and does that horrifying thing where her eyebrows pull together and she talks all serious and calm while pointing her finger at them and it makes Dean want to die so that he can never disappoint her again.

Sam and Dean lock themselves in their respective rooms afterward, and Dean tosses his ruined t-shirt in the trash and pulls on another one. He scowls down at himself when he realizes the shirt doesn’t cover the lower roll of his belly. 

“My favorite shirt, damn it,” he mumbles to himself as he pulls uselessly at the hem.

As if to mock him, his stomach growls again. So he grabs his family-sized bag of M&M’s that he’s been working through the past couple days and plops down on his bed with his laptop. 

He falls asleep within half an hour.

 _“Dean! Come down here, please!”_  

He jerks awake at the sound of his mom’s voice and nearly knocks his laptop off the bed. She sounds stressed out, so he quickly hops up and heads toward the door.

 _“Coming!”_  he shouts back as he makes his way downstairs. 

It’s not until after he’s face-to-face with the eight guests sitting properly in their living room that he remembers:  _pants._

“Uh…I’m gonna just…”

“If you’ll excuse my son,” his mom starts with an edge to her voice. “He’s home from college and forgot we were having guests over. Dean, can you please put on something decent and then come join us so you can meet my boss’ family?”

Dean’s eyes widen as he processes what his mom just said. She’s only had the job for a couple of months, and it’s one she’s really excited about. All he knows about her boss is that she’s weirdly religious, and so is her whole family.

And here he is, frozen in his spot wearing nothing but pink and purple plaid boxers that are a size too small and his belly hanging out of a muscle tee that says “say hey if you’re gay.”

His mom gives him a  _look_ , and he springs into action and runs toward the stairs. 

From behind him, he hears a very faint and gravelly, “Hey.”

Several people gasp, and Dean whips back around and locks eyes with the culprit. 

He’s got messy black hair and a smug smile on his gorgeous face, and it takes Dean a second to figure out why he recognizes him.

“You went to my high school,” he says stupidly.

The boy cautiously side-eyes his mom and responds, “I still go to your high school. I have a semester left.”

Even more stupidly, Dean walks right into the living room and past the boy’s religious family and sticks his hand out and says, “I’m Dean.”

“Castiel,” he responds as he takes Dean’s hand in both of his. “It’s nice to meet you, Dean.”

“You too…I’m, uh, gonna…”

 _“Please_  go change, Dean,” Mary cuts in, breaking the trance the entire room was seemingly under.

Dean very subtly winks at Castiel before backing his way out of the room and only turning when he gets to the stairs. 

As soon as he starts his ascent, he hears several voices speaking over each other.

_“Castiel, is there something you would like to explain to us?”  
_

_“This was not the most opportune time for this, Castiel.”  
_

_“I’m so sorry for my son’s behavior, I had no idea he would–”_

_“We will discuss this later.”_

Dean goes straight to Sam’s room and walks in without knocking.

“Hey, what the hell are you–”

“How come  _you_  don’t have to meet Mom’s guests?”

“Uh, you’re a pre-med student? I’m 14, nobody gives a shit about my APUSH class.”

“I just walked downstairs wearing this.”

Sam stifles a laugh as he looks Dean up and down. “Did anybody say hey?”

“Yes, in fact. Do you know a kid named Castiel or whatever?”

 _“Cas?_  Cas  _Novak_  is  _gay?”_  Sam exclaims.

“What do you know about him?”

“Nothing, just that he’s got his whole family fooled into believing he’s some goody two-shoes but in actuality he’s one of those kids that smokes pot and makes out behind the bleachers.”

“Oh god, he’s one of  _those?_  I always hated those assholes.”

“Wait, so did you get out of hanging out with them? Or are they expecting you back downstairs?”

“Shit, you’re right. I gotta go find some fucking pants that still fit.”

Dean hears Sam’s laugh follow him all the way to his room. It’s much quieter downstairs now, and Dean can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

He tries on four different pairs of jeans before finally finding some that button, and he throws on his biggest flannel over his say hey if you’re gay shirt. The buttons on the flannel strain to stay together, but at least he’s not showing any skin anymore.

He checks himself out in the mirror and sucks in his gut for three seconds before giving up and breathing out with a sigh. He grabs his belly with both of his hands and says, “Clothes, I need you to stay on.”

It’s not much better when he goes downstairs this time. The Novaks give him judgmental looks, and a couple of them scoff at his ill-fitting clothes. He puts on his charm anyway and isn’t even fazed when nobody laughs at his amazing jokes. His mom relaxes as the evening wears on, and he thinks it’s probably because she’s decided that she doesn’t give a fuck what these pretentious snobs think.

Dean catches Cas’ eye several times and tries not to blush. He can feel Cas staring at him, and one time he catches him staring at his waistline. He doesn’t feel judged though, like with the other Novaks. He feels…ogled. 

His dad gets home as Mary is checking dinner, and they all sit down in the dining room about 10 minutes later. Cas goes out of his way to get a seat next to Dean, and Dean tries to ignore the way his dad suspiciously narrows his eyes at that. (Just because John knows that Dean is bisexual doesn’t mean he’s necessarily OK with the “attracted to dudes” part of it.)

“Can I come over tomorrow?” Cas whispers as soon as they both have food on their plates.

Dean shoves mashed potatoes in his mouth and furiously nods.

“Don’t eat too much, Dean,” Cas continues. “You don’t want an embarrassing accident, do you?” He reaches across Dean’s lap under the table and presses his palm to where Dean’s stomach hangs over the button of his jeans.

Dean shakes his head and continues to shovel mashed potatoes down his throat.

Lucky for him, eating is both a coping mechanism  _and_  a nervous habit so there’s no possible chance of following through on Cas’ suggestion. The bottom button of his shirt pings off after his third plate, and fortunately Cas is the only person to notice.

Cas…who just laughs quietly and tells Dean he should sneak upstairs as soon as dinner is over.

A second button pings off while Dean is eating his second slice of pie. 

“Dean, would you like to be excused?” his dad asks from the other end of the table, and he’s got that edge to his voice like he knows exactly what’s going on.

Dean nods and places a hand over his missing buttons as he scoots back from the table. Despite how full he is, he sprints upstairs and immediately strips down to his boxers and t-shirt before flopping onto his bed with a groan. He absentmindedly eats more M&M’s.

“You should invest in some new clothes, Dean.”

He nearly leaps off the bed at the sound of Cas’ voice, but he composes himself enough to sit up and toss the M&M’s to the side. “Jesus, Cas, how’d you even get up here without anybody noticing?”

“Nobody really pays attention to me, don’t worry. Would you like to smoke a joint?”

“In my bedroom? With our families downstairs already judging us? No thanks.”

Cas shrugs and pockets the joint and lighter. “So,” he starts slowly as if he’s unsure of himself. “I didn’t know you were gay. I know we didn’t know each other at school, but I knew who you were because of baseball. I mean, I didn’t go to any games, but–”

“I’m not gay,” Dean interrupts. “I’m bi. I was only out to my close friends and family in high school. What about you, it sounds like you just outed yourself to your family.”

Cas dramatically rolls his eyes and leans back against Dean’s desk. “It’s about time they get their heads out of their asses and realize that I’m not who they want me to be.”

“Wow. Sounds like you care about them a lot.”

Cas smiles shyly and answers, “They’re not all bad. But now that I’m this close to graduation, frankly I don’t care what they think of me anymore.”

“So, uh, what are you gonna do when, uh, you graduate?”

“Dean, it’s all right for you to act interested. I absolutely followed you up here under the impression that something might happen between us. I’m assuming you’re home at least through the New Year, so we can make the most of the time we have. Am I being too forward?”

Dean moves his mouth like a goddamn fish, and Cas takes that as his cue to glide over to the bed and seal their mouths together.

They both freeze for a second, and then Cas moves his lips and Dean follows, and it’s less than a minute before they have hands in hair and tongues in each other’s mouths. It’s too much too soon, and they pull apart with deep breaths.

Cas examines Dean’s face, smiles, and says, “Hey.”


	55. State Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas stake out at a state fair, and Dean eats an impossible amount of fair food.

“Do you need anything else, Dean?”

“No, I’m good for now.” Dean takes a bite out of his giant turkey leg. “You good?”

“I’m fine.” Cas sighs and looks off to the left. “Have you heard from Sam?”

Dean wipes his hands and squirms in his seat to try to get his phone out of his pocket. “Damn it.”

Cas levels him with a stern glare. “You put it in your front pocket, didn’t you?”

Dean nods and ducks his chin. It’s been a couple months since he could reach inside his front pocket while sitting, and he keeps forgetting that it’s not a simple task anymore. He pats his belly apologetically and turns his attention back to his food.

Cas continues babbling about the case, but Dean blocks him out in favor of stuffing his face with carnival food. They’re sitting at the end of a long picnic table under one of the tents, and there’s a lady sitting a few feet down who keeps giving Dean judgmental looks. The bench ominously creaks whenever he shifts his weight.

“Dean, are you listening?”

Dean sets down his destroyed turkey leg and drenches his pulled pork sandwich in barbecue sauce before picking it up. “No, not really.”

“You realize we’re here on a  _case_ , right?”

“You realize I can see right through your bullshit and know you’re shaking in your trench coat watching me pig out, right?”

Cas swallows thickly and stares as Dean picks up a fried pickle and scarfs it down in two bites before returning to his sandwich. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dean mumbles.

“How much more are you going to…?”

Dean shrugs and eats another pickle. He has two orders of five pickles, a basket of fries, six fried oreos and a funnel cake. The barbecue pork sandwich was good but hardly made a dent. He looks longingly over to the stand where he got it.

Cas immediately gets up and comes back with two more pork sandwiches.

“I love you,” Dean says more to the sandwiches than to Cas.

He starts getting full by the time he’s run out of pickles and is digging into his last sandwich, so he takes a few deep breaths and presses a hand to his gut. He would love to lose a notch in his belt, but he’s going to have to stand up to accomplish that task.

“Are you OK, Dean?”

“Peachy. Can you go buy me another coke?”

“You’ve had two already.”

“Uhh, so? I ain’t exactly counting calories here, Cas.”

Cas tips his chin back. “Well, _I_ am. And I think it’s time you switch to something else.”

He walks off before Dean can ask what the hell he means, but then he comes back with a huge chocolate milkshake and sets it between the oreos and the funnel cake.

Dean glares at Cas as he slurps down the whole shake in a matter of seconds. He tosses the empty cup across the table and asks, “They got refills?”

After Cas leaves this time, Dean takes the chance to assess the situation. The buttons on his flannel are beginning to strain, but he really can’t unbutton it. His undershirt is two sizes too small and the sleeves dig into his arms, and he’s not going to subject the fairgoers to his bare belly hanging out of the bottom of his t-shirt. As he looks at himself, his face starts to flush so he stress eats all the fried oreos two at a time.

It wasn’t exactly a conscious decision to…. _let himself go_  so much as it was subconsciously realizing that it drove Cas nuts. The first time they fucked was after Dean accidentally ate a whole pie in one sitting, and it’s really been downhill from there. It was a few months before Dean couldn’t button his pants and had to admit to himself that it was time to buy a new wardrobe he affectionately calls his _chubby wardrobe_. Two more months before the chubby wardrobe really started feeling tight and Dean considered upgrading to a  _fat wardrobe._

But he’s stubborn as hell, so now it’s been a little over a month since he outgrew his chubby wardrobe and he still hasn’t replaced it. He has to jump and squirm to get his jeans on every day, and he wears a belt to cover the fact that he can’t do the button. He split the seat of his pants on a hunt about a week ago, and Cas fucked him into oblivion for it. But the bigger he gets, the more he wants to eat–and not just because his appetite is getting out of control. It just  _feels_  good.

Cas comes back with a slush this time, and Dean struggles to finish it and the entire funnel cake. He burps and rubs his belly when he’s done, and the lady near him drops her mouth open as if she’s scandalized. 

He’s wobbly when he gets to his feet, and his gut succumbs to gravity and drops painfully over his waistband. Cas places a hand on his back to steady him and then curls his fingers into his love handle. 

“Bathroom,” Dean says as he waddles toward it. He has to tug his shirt down over and over again to prevent it from bunching up around his belly button, and he briefly wonders if Cas can mojo his clothes to be bigger. Well, he probably  _can_ but he definitely won’t.

Once inside the bathroom, Dean locks himself in a stall and unbuttons his shirt. He has to suck in to pull the buttons apart, and it hurts his full stomach. He then struggles to reach his belt buckle, but when he finally gets it free his belly expands and forces the zipper apart. He heaves a sigh of relief and rucks up his t-shirt so he can rub his skin in long, slow circles until some of the pressure dissipates. He runs his fingers over the stretch marks that start at his hips and extend all the way up to his belly button and wonders if he’s making any more of them tonight. 

Getting his clothes back  _on_  is a much more grueling task, but he manages to get his belt to the first notch and all the buttons buttoned on his shirt without any accidents. He takes a piss and washes his hands for a long time after, staring at himself in the mirror and getting a kick out of how distorted and stretched all the lines on his plaid shirt look. 

A guy at the sink next to him checks him out not twice but three times before asking, “Can I buy you another cheeseburger?”

Dean slaps him on the back and answers, “Not a great way to pick up fat guys, buddy,” before leaving.

As Dean walks toward Cas, he gets a whiff of red meat and parmesan and his stomach growls. 

“Sam hasn’t had any luck finding strange incidents at other recent state fairs,” Cas announces, looking down at his phone as if he’s reading a text.

“Well, what city were these rides in last? If one of the rides is haunted, it would move with the fair.” Dean walks toward a food stand and knows that Cas is blindly following him. He orders a meatball sub and a large lemonade.

“That’s Sam’s theory as well, but as I just said, no strange incidents at recent state fairs.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Well maybe the ride that’s haunted wasn’t at a state fair last, maybe it was at a church festival or some shit.”

“Oh. I’ll suggest that to Sam.”

Dean receives his food and hands his lemonade off to Cas so he can eat and walk at the same time. The sub is incredible, and he makes obscene noises and gets sauce all over his face. He eats like a starved man despite the protests from his full stomach.

He gets so focused on his sandwich that he doesn’t even realize they’re at another food stand until he hears Cas ordering an ear of corn.

“What are you–”

“You need some vegetables to balance out the grease,” Cas deadpans as he pours a ridiculous amount of melted butter onto the corn. 

Dean shoves the rest of his meatball sub in his mouth and eagerly reaches for the corn.

They walk around waiting for anything unusual to happen for another couple of hours, and it seems the more food Dean sees the bigger his appetite grows. A slice of homemade pie here, half a dozen cheap donuts there. They do a cake auction and win a pound cake that he gets halfway through before deciding it’s too dry and throws it out. He gets a waffle cone with four scoops to get rid of the dryness, a double bacon cheeseburger to balance the sweetness, three more orders of fried pickles because they’re goddamn delicious, popcorn and nachos and chili cheese fries and chicken and steak kabobs and anything else he can get his hands on. His stomach is so full it hardly moves as they walk. It protrudes out from his body so far that he keeps bumping into people, and his face grows hot whenever people stare. His skin is stretched to its limit and everything inside of him hurts and yet he still  _wants_. He eats and he eats until it feels weird  _not_  to be eating.

He’s been out of breath for hours and has no idea if it’s because he’s completely out of shape or if he’s so full he can’t breathe. They find another picnic table to sit for a break, and Dean’s belly sits atop his lap like a trophy for the evening. He rubs it and pats it and tries to sink his fingers into his strained skin with no success. He alternates between deep and shallow breaths, and while he’s exhaling the second to last button pops off his shirt and onto the ground. 

“How the hell did that not happen earlier?” he asks as he unbuttons the rest of the shirt and can finally breathe better. His stomach pushes further into his lap, and he leans back to try to relieve some of the pinching happening around his waist. 

“I might’ve…been keeping an eye on it,” Cas admits.

“Oh, that’s weird because I was just thinking about–wait.”

“What is it? Did you realize something about the case because I think–”

 _“You’ve_  been making me hungry all night.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re using your grace to increase my appetite! I fucking knew it. Quit it, all right? I’m not gonna be able to hunt if I gain more weight.”

“O….K,” Cas concedes.

“I’m going to the bathroom. You’re a dick.” Dean holds his gut as he stands and then fruitlessly tries to yank his t-shirt down past his belly button. 

As he watches Dean waddle away, Cas sends a text to Sam.

_Dean thinks I’m using my grace to increase his appetite lol_


End file.
